Finding Hope
by RainneCassidy
Summary: When a nightmare from Kate's past comes back to haunt her, the team must rally together to protect her.  AU from the last few minutes of "Twilight."  PLEASE READ ALL WARNINGS AT TOP OF CHAPTER 1 BEFORE READING THE STORY.
1. Chapter 1

**WARNINGS: This story includes borderline adult material (though nothing explicit). TRIGGER WARNINGS include DISCUSSION of child rape and child abuse as well as stalking, psychological torture and offscreen death of original characters. PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS STORY if you believe such discussion will be offensive or harmful to you.  
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><p><strong>Author's note: <strong>At the request of reader NCIS-McGee-Lover, I have brought this story _in an edited form_ from LiveJournal to this site. In its original form, this story is rated NC-17 and contains graphic depictions of sexual behavior between consenting adults. **If you are over the legal age for possession/use of erotic materials in your locality**, you are welcome to read the original unedited version of the story at my LiveJournal. I will place the URL for the story index at the bottom of this page.

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><p><em>Sitting at home one night in her pajamas, watching Grey's Anatomy and eating leftover Italian, Kate Todd took a look at her life and suddenly wondered where everything had gone so completely sideways. By twenty-nine years old, she had expected to be married with a couple of kids, two-story house in a suburb somewhere and the ubiquitous minivan… instead, she was still single with no kids, living in an apartment in the city – admittedly, a trendy and well-decorated apartment, but the point still stood – and driving a foreign sedan.<em>

_Something was wrong with this picture._

_She stood, wandering into the kitchen to wash up her dishes, and continued examining the problem from all angles. Not married; well, the problem there could definitely have something to do with the fact that she didn't date much (for values of _much_ that equal _atall_). No kids; definitely attached to the not married part of the problem, and the former must be solved before the latter, because the other way around simply would not do. The minivan would be unnecessary until the kids problem was solved. The house bit, though… that was something she could do something about._

_Cup of coffee in hand, Kate wandered toward the window, and almost unconsciously stopped and wandered away from it again. She had developed a tendency to stay away from places where she could be sniped from a distance. That, according to the agency headshrinker, was probably directly tied to the fact that she'd just recently survived a sniper's attempt on her life. She didn't really care what it was due to; all she really cared about was making the shrink happy so she could get back to work. _

_Back to work. Yes, that was definitely an occasion to look forward to – after an enforced two month vacation since Ari Haswari's attempt on her life (six weeks for the bullet wound and another two from the headshrinker) she was finally going back to work Monday. Not, of course, that there weren't five days between now and Monday, but still, Monday would definitely be a red-letter day, and it would also be a red jacket day, because she'd just been out that very afternoon and bought such an article of clothing for the particular purpose of wearing it on Monday when she went back to work._

"_I need sleep," Kate said to her dog. "I'm rambling to myself."_

_The scruffy little mutt cocked her head, staring back at Kate wordlessly. Kate sighed, took her coffee back in the kitchen to dump it into the sink, and started back through the apartment, flipping lights off and turning off the television as she went. She was almost to her bedroom when the doorbell rang. She jumped in surprise, her heart triphammering in her chest, and turned toward the door. "Who is it?"_

"_It's me, Kate," responded a familiar voice, and she sighed slightly as she recognized her partner's voice. "Lemme in."_

_Flipping the living room light back on, she started toward the door, pulling the chain and unlocking both the deadbolts – the old one and the new one – before pulling the door open. "Hey, Tony," she greeted him, smiling up at him. "What brings you to my neck of the woods?"_

"_Brought you something," he replied. He was standing with his hands behind his back, and she grinned, stepping back from the door._

"_Well, come on in and give it to me. I love presents."_

"_Oh, I can give it to you from here," he replied. Then he brought his hands around, and she had just enough time to register the muzzle of his gun before he pulled the trigger. She fell backward onto the floor, barely dodging the bullet, and tried to scrabble backward with one injured shoulder, conscious in the back of her mind of her dog going nuts, barking and growling at this sudden, noisy intrusion. He strode forward, aiming the gun at her and grinning at her with eyes that were suddenly flat and black and snakelike. "Ari wanted to give you this himself, but he couldn't be here, so I brought it for him." Then he pulled the trigger again, and this time the pain exploded in her left shoulder, and all she could do was scream._

Kate sat straight up, gasping, and stared into the face of the man whose hand was gripping her right arm, shaking her hard. She blinked, shook her head, and took several deep breaths, willing her heartbeat to slow. "I'm okay," she said to her boss, pushing a trembling hand through her hair and taking another deep breath. "I'm okay. I'm awake. I'm okay."

"You sure?"

She nodded, looking up into those blue eyes, so full of concern, and tried to smile. "Really. I'm okay. It was just a nightmare."

He sat down on the side of the bed, letting go of her shoulder, and studied her. "Must have been one hell of a nightmare," he said casually. "You're shaking like a leaf and you're covered in cold sweat."

She took another deep breath, feeling her pulse finally beginning to slow. "Yet another Christmas at my parents'," she lied. "I told my cousin Maureen that if I had to hear another 'So Kate, when are you going to give me some grandchildren' I'd scream." She tried to smile.

"You're a lousy liar," he said bluntly.

"So I've been told since I was about six," she replied, pushing the covers back. "Any coffee left downstairs?"

"The last thing you need is coffee. I'll make you some hot chocolate if you want it."

She stuck her tongue out at him as he stood. "I really want some coffee, though," she wheedled, pulling on a pair of fuzzy socks over her bare feet.

"Doc said no coffee," he replied laconically, heading out into the hallway. "Want the chocolate or not?"

"Yes," she said quickly before he could change his mind. She debated pulling on a pair of flannel pants over her boxer shorts, but settled for adding a sweatshirt over her tank top, moving slowly to avoid jarring the bullet wound in her left shoulder – the one left by Ari Haswari's attempt on her life. She followed him downstairs into his kitchen, perching on one of the chairs at his kitchen table while he got out a pair of mugs and the chocolate.

"So, what was the nightmare about?" he asked casually.

She sighed, leaning back against the wall. "Getting shot, Gibbs. What else?"

He nodded, pouring milk into a saucepan. "Who was it this time?"

"What?"

He glanced over his shoulder at her. "Who pulled the trigger?"

She pulled her knees up to her chest and studied them. "Tony."

He nodded. "I thought so; I heard you say his name before you started screaming." When she narrowed her eyes at him, he gestured to his own pajama-clad body. "I was coming back from the bathroom, Kate, not listening at your door."

"Oh." She blushed slightly, looking down at her knees again. "Sorry. I'm just…"

"Jumpy. I know." He poured up the chocolate into two mugs and handed her one of them, dropping the pan into the sink before picking up the other and moving to sit across the table from her. "Why do you think I told you to come stay here for a few days instead of going home? You almost died three days ago, Kate. If you were at home by yourself right now, you'd be on the couch with your dog and a gun pointed at the door. At least if you're here, you can get some sleep."

She sipped at her chocolate. "I can't help it." She sighed, rolling her shoulder and wincing slightly as the stitches pulled. "I guess it could be worse. At least I'm alive to have nightmares."

He nodded, looking down into his own mug. "There is that," he said softly.

They finished their chocolate in silence, then Gibbs rinsed the mugs and left them in the drainboard. She followed him back up the stairs and paused in the doorway of his guest room, reaching across the narrow hall with her uninjured arm to lay a hand on his shoulder. "Gibbs?"

"Yeah?"

She smiled shakily up at him. "Thanks. For everything."

He gave her a very slight smile in return. "Don't mention it."

She snorted indelicately as she returned to her borrowed bed, knowing full well that he meant just exactly that. _Don't mention it Kate, really, because thanks and apologies and other sorts of words that indicate people have emotions make me really, really uncomfortable, and we've already had the closest thing to a heart-to-heart that you and I are ever going to have, so do us both a favor and stop bringing it up_.

She climbed back between the sheets, curling up on her uninjured side and pulling the comforter up to her chin. The last thought she had before slipping off to sleep was, who ever would have thought Gibbs would be the one to save her from herself?

She showed up at work on Monday morning, five days after being shot, three days after being released from the hospital and a day after finally going home from Gibbs's house, despite technically still being on medical leave. She was dressed casually in khakis and a tee shirt, her left arm in its sling and the bulky bandages still visible under the neck of her top. Gibbs wasn't at his desk when she got there, but Tim and Tony were, and they both raised their eyebrows slightly at the sight of her rounding the corner into their little cubicled area.

"You do realize you're only going to get sent home again," Tony pointed out as she sat down.

She shrugged. "He can try, but he can't make me go."

"I can always fire you," Gibbs pointed out from behind her.

She looked up at him and smiled. "But you won't." She turned her computer on and watched as her inbox began to fill with messages from people she hadn't heard from in years, mostly with subject lines full of shock and awe. She rolled her eyes. "And look: now that I've been on television, suddenly everybody wants to know me."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow as he sat down at his own desk, fresh coffee in hand. "Lot of email?"

Kate waved an expressive hand. "There's email here from girls I hated in high school. I'm gonna have to talk to my mother about giving out my work address." She began deleting messages without reading them, one after another. "So, do we have a case?"

"Not yet," McGee replied. "We've been taking advantage of the lull to get paperwork done."

She made a face. "I don't want to do paperwork. I want to solve crimes. Tim, go find me a crime to solve!"

McGee laughed at her imperious tone. "I'll get right on that, Kate."

She grinned at him, then turned her attention back to her inbox – and her jaw dropped. "What the hell?"

Tony raised an eyebrow. "What is it?"

She pointed at the screen, her expression still one of shock, and then suddenly her brows drew together and she shot a killing glare across the bullpen at both Tim and Tony. "Very funny, you two."

McGee's eyebrows drew together in consternation. "What?"

"You couldn't just leave well enough alone? You've gotta send me prank emails? Well, it's not funny." She turned away from them, slapping the delete button viciously. "I don't know how you found out about him, but I don't appreciate the reminder. Not in the least."

She sat there in angry silence for a long moment, while Tim and Tony stared at one another in confusion, and then she sniffled hard, stood up and stalked off to the bathroom. Tim caught a glimpse of the tears running down her face as she walked away. He turned to Tony before the words could even make it out of Gibbs's mouth. "Did _you_ send her something?"

Tony shook his head. "I haven't even looked at my email since Friday. You didn't either?"

"No." Tim stood and moved across the bullpen, heedless of the danger to his person if she caught him looking at her email, and pulled up her deleted items folder.

_From: Neil Davenport _

_Date: Sunday, May 29, 2005 6:38 PM_

_To: Kate Todd .mil_

_Subject: Hey there, sweet thing_

_Saw you on the news. Sorry to hear you got hurt. I'll come by to check on you and make sure you're okay. Looking forward to seeing you again._

_Neil_

_P.S. Do you still taste like cotton candy?_

"Who the heck is Neil Davenport?" Tony asked.

"No idea," Tim replied. He moved back to his own desk, beginning a search without Gibbs having to ask. What he found chilled him. "Neil Davenport was a twenty-nine year old pizza delivery guy in a suburb of Indianapolis. In 1984 he…" Tim paused, swallowed hard, and spoke again. "He was convicted of abducting three girls from a slumber party at gunpoint, holding them for a week, raping them all, and killing two of them before the cops found him. He was executed by lethal injection in 1994."

"Jesus Christ," Tony whispered.

"How old were the girls?" Gibbs asked, his voice low.

"Eleven."

"Are you done dissecting my childhood now?" Kate's voice vibrated with fury as it crossed into the bullpen. "Or do you want to hear stories about it? Want me to tell you what it was like down in that basement for a week, eating moldy bread and begging him to stop hurting us? How he killed Gina and Nikki and left their bodies there for me to look at? Or maybe you want to hear about the nightmares and the shrink visits and the month in a psych ward when I was fifteen and I tried to kill myself. That ought to be a barrel of laughs, don't you think?"

"Kate, we didn't send that!" Tony stood and moved to stand directly in front of her. "We didn't. I swear it. Come on, Kate, you have to know that's not the kind of thing we'd think was funny."

She studied him for a long moment, and suddenly all the righteous anger went out of her with a whoosh. He reached out, not sure if she would let him touch her, but she sagged into his arms and laid her forehead on his shoulder. "You're right, Tony," she said, her voice muffled by the fabric of his shirt. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," he said softly, patting her back gently. "You were thrown pretty hard. It's understandable."

"Why would someone do that?" she asked softly.

"I don't know," Tony said softly.

"But we're gonna find out," Gibbs finished. "McGee. Get on it."

"Already working on it, Boss."

Tony gave Kate a last gentle squeeze and let her go, smiling down at her softly. "There. See? McGeek's on the case. This jerk doesn't stand a chance."

Kate nodded once, then gave him a shaky smile back. "Thanks, Tony," she said softly. She moved back to her desk then, sitting down and staring blankly at an innocuous email message from a Secret Service buddy.

After quite possibly the longest day of her adult life, Kate went home again, followed by McGee, who was assigned to protection detail. Kate had protested that she didn't need a bodyguard in her own apartment; after all, she was in possession of more than one gun of her own, but Gibbs had insisted, punctuating his argument by the simple expedient of reaching out and grabbing her left shoulder. The pain of his light grip had buckled her knees immediately, and after he helped her get over the loss of breath and nausea, she admitted that he had a point. Then she threatened to eviscerate him if he ever did anything like that to her again.

After changing into lounging pants and a tank top, Kate moved around the kitchen, attempting to put dinner together one-handed. McGee came to help her, and between the two of them they put together a decent chicken Caesar salad. They sat on the sofa to eat and he told funny stories on himself from school to try and get her mind off her worries. Around eight-thirty, she yawned hugely and then smiled at him, her cheeks flushing slightly. "Sorry… it's not the company, I swear."

He grinned. "I know. Don't worry about it. Get some sleep."

She shook her head, glancing toward her bedroom. "I don't know if I can sleep."

He reached up and pulled the afghan off the back of the sofa, dropping it into her lap. "Then sleep here." He stood, crossing the room and pulling a book at random off her bookshelf, then took a seat in her big comfy chair, pointedly opening the book and fastening his eyes to the first page in a show of fascination.

A few minutes later, she snorted. "You're not reading," she accused as she settled down with her head on the arm of the sofa.

"I am, too," he replied.

"No, you're not."

"How do you know?"

"Well, for one thing, it's upside down," she pointed out. "And for another, I'm having trouble believing you could possibly be that interested in _Cosmo's Complete Break-Up Survival Handbook._"

His face flushed bright red as he flipped the book over, examined the cover with something akin to horror, and stood, heading back over to the bookshelf to replace it and select something with a little more care this time. "Go to sleep," he ordered her, reaching down absently to brush her hair back from her face as he passed on his way back to his chair.

She smiled slightly, recognizing the well-worn cover of one of her favorite mystery novels, and closed her eyes. "Yes, sir," she replied and, grinning, drifted off to sleep.

_The only sound she could hear was dripping water and her own breathing; the only sight she could see was complete darkness. The lamp had burned out hours ago, leaving her alone in the dark with her two companions. Not that they were very good company; Gina had been dead for three days now, and Nikki since yesterday. She and Nikki had watched their captor choke Gina to death while he was lying on top of her; he had whacked Nikki on the head with a pipe when she started screaming again._

_Now Katie was alone, huddled in a corner of the basement, praying desperately. "Our Father," she whispered, "who art in Heaven," or sometimes, "Hail Mary, full of Grace." Not that it did any good; she prayed over and over again that the next time the basement door opened, it would be a policeman come to rescue her. It never was._

_The door opened again; Katie winced back from the yellow light that streamed down, covering eyes grown sensitive during the long period of darkness. Behind his familiar silhouette she could see the avocado-green refrigerator and the side of a cabinet covered in striped contact paper. Then he switched on his flashlight and stepped forward, pulling the door shut behind him. She heard the lock click, watched the light play around the basement as he descended the stairs, and felt the tears begin to well up in her eyes._

"_Kaaaatie," he sang out, his voice obscenely caressing her name as he moved toward her. She bit her lip, feeling the first sob fighting to escape her throat at the sound of his zipper._

"_Please," she whispered as the beam of the flashlight caught her full in the face. "Please don't hurt me any more."_

_His hand descended into her hair, dragging her out of the corner, and his black eyes burned into hers just before he turned her head and licked the side of her face. "Caitlin," Ari's voice whispered, and she screamed._

She woke up fighting, and it was only the pain in her shoulder when she pulled a stitch that stopped her from giving Tim McGee a black eye. She fell back onto the couch, gagging, and he finally loosened his grip on her, moving into the kitchen and bringing her back a glass of ice water and a damp towel. He sat down on the coffee table and patted her face with the towel gently, wiping away her sweat and the tracks of her tears, before wrapping her good hand firmly around the glass of water.

"You okay?" he asked softly after she'd taken a few sips.

She nodded shakily and stared into the glass, unable to meet his kind, concerned eyes.

He studied her. "Want to talk about it?" he asked gently.

She stood, stepping over the tangled afghan where it now lay on the floor and walked away from him, moving to stare out the window. "Not really," she said softly. She put the glass down on the windowsill when her hand began to shake too hard to hold it properly, and looked up in surprise when his warm hand came to lay gently on her right shoulder. She could see his reflection in the glass, and his face was compassionate and gentle.

"I've never been through anything like what you've been through," he said, his voice low and soft, "but the fact that you made it through and came out on the other side as strong as you are just makes me respect you even more than I already did. And if you need somebody to talk to, somebody that can just listen without judging you… I can do that for you, Kate. And I won't tell anyone."

She sighed, leaning back against him. He was warm and solid behind her, strong where she could not bring herself to be, just now. "It was the same old dream," she finally confessed. "The same one I used to have all the time. I'm back in that basement again, and it's dark because the lamp burned out, and Gina and Nikki are dead. Then the kitchen door opens up and he comes down and… and hurts me. Only this time, it wasn't him. This time it was Ari."

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close to him. "Ari can't hurt you any more, Kate," he said softly. "He's dead."

"I know," she answered, her own voice just as soft. "So is Neil." Then she looked up at him. "But somebody wants me to think he's not."

"I've got a couple of leads," Tim said, picking up her glass and drawing her back to the couch. He put the glass on a coaster on the coffee table and picked up the afghan, tucking it around her legs. "I'm not really ready to say for sure. But I'm checking." He took her hands. "I will find whoever it is, Kate. I promise."

She gave him a wan little smile. "I know you will, Tim."

He sat down on the coffee table again. "Let me see your shoulder."

She turned, letting him work the bandages off with gentle, competent fingers, and he made a thoughtful noise as he studied the wound. "First aid kit?"

"Under the bathroom sink."

He retrieved the kit, washed his hands, and came back to her side again. He worked gently, disinfecting the area around the wound and then applying a butterfly bandage to the place where the stitch had pulled loose. "In the morning," he said in a firm but gentle tone, "let me check it again. If it's not holding, we'll need to swing by the E.R. before we go in."

She nodded, watching as he disposed of the trash, and then shifted to the side, touching the sofa cushions gently with her right hand. "Will you come sit with me?" she asked him when he returned.

"Sure," he replied, retrieving his book and coming to sit at her side. She curled her legs up and leaned on his shoulder, and he looked down at her. "Think you can sleep some?"

She shrugged slightly. "Doubt it." But she closed her eyes anyway, and when she opened them again, it was morning.

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><p><em>As promised, the URL for the original and unedited version of this story: xdawnfirex-fic [dot] livejournal [dot] com [slash] 67159 [dot] html<em>

_You are advised that if you are under the legal age for possession/use of erotic materials in your locality, the unedited version of this story IS NOT FOR YOU. Please don't make me regret posting this._


	2. Chapter 2

"Do we absolutely have to do this? I mean, can't they just send it to me in the mail?"

"Suck it up, Kate."

"_You_ never do. You don't even show up to the interoffice awards ceremonies if you can get away with it." She made a face at her boss.

He returned the favor. "Yeah, but I'm not getting awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom, either."

"For which I entirely blame you." She turned in front of the gym mirror, examining her lines in the dress she was wearing. "Does this make my butt look big?"

There was a long silence and then a soft chuckle. "You do things like that just to get back at me, don't you?"

"Is it working?" She fluttered her eyelashes at him coyly, then grinned. "You'd better get your jacket on or we'll be late."

"Still can't believe you're making me escort you."

She grinned wickedly. "_That's_ my revenge, Agent Gibbs. Everything else is just window dressing."

Rolling his eyes, Gibbs went to retrieve his suit jacket from his gym locker. Despite the banter and his good-natured grumbling about having to get dressed up, he was proud – more than proud – that she had asked him to escort her to this evening's ceremony. She'd been all over the news for two weeks – someone had "accidentally" leaked a story to the _Washington Post_ about the female NCIS agent who'd almost died stopping a terrorist attack on the Norfolk Pier, and the press had gone wild over the story. There had been requests for interviews before she'd even gotten out of surgery, there were reporters milling around when the team proudly escorted her out of the hospital. _Dateline_ had called her at home, asking if she would mind appearing – they wanted to do a feature on women in law enforcement. Suddenly Kate Todd was a celebrity.

She, of course, was furious – she was now completely ruined for undercover work. Gibbs admitted to himself (though never to anyone else) that from that perspective, perhaps his anonymous call to the _Post_ might have been a touch on the hasty side. But he had been determined that Ari Haswari was not going to get away this time; he was going to pay for damn near killing Kate and McGee. And he had – his execution was televised on Al Jazeera two days after Kate was released from the hospital, while she was still staying in Gibbs's guest room. Gibbs had watched it on the screen in MTAC and gone home to tell Kate that she was safe again. And her safety, in his opinion, was more important than her availability for undercover assignments. There were other agents; Paula Cassidy, for one, who had just gotten reassigned to the Washington Field Office.

He checked his tie in the mirror she had so recently been checking her hair in, then turned to her. Kate was leaning against the side of the boxing ring, watching him. "Ready?" he asked.

She nodded. "As I'll ever be, I guess."

He nodded back, then offered her his arm. Grinning, she took it, and he led her upstairs to the waiting car.

The car delivered them to the White House, where the rest of their team already waited along with both the old and the new Directors of NCIS. Tom Morrow had gone off to Homeland Security the day after Kate was shot, but he'd come back for this ceremony, and Gibbs could see him standing off to one side, chatting with Jenny Shepard. He shook his head slightly at the sight of Jenny standing there in a silver gown. He hadn't seen her in several years, though he'd been hearing about her meteoric rise through the ranks. He snorted slightly as he remembered what she had once told him about her five-point plan. Looks like it worked, he mused, and then turned his attention to the woman on his arm.

Kate was a vision in red and black; even her sling was black and beaded like an evening bag. He commented on it and she snickered. "Abby," she said simply, and he understood completely. Then he realized that the bead pattern on the sling very slightly suggested a skull and crossbones. He should have known.

The team stood around together, chatting, and Kate watched the new director from across the room with interest. Gibbs wondered if she was seeing herself in the Director's office. _She'd be a good Director_, he thought idly. He was a little worried about Jenny; she'd wanted the position badly for as long as he'd known her, but he wasn't a hundred percent sure she would be able to keep it. _Time will tell_, he supposed, and then he forced his attention back to the woman at his side.

They didn't have to wait long; the President came into the room about half an hour later, trailed by aides and a photographer. He presented Kate with her medal, the photographer took a few pictures, and the President told Kate that he missed having her on the Secret Service detail. Kate was flattered by his memory of her and spent the rest of the evening with a huge smile on her face that Gibbs was sure had little to nothing to do with the actual medal she'd received.

The car took all of them back to headquarters, dropping them off at the front door, and they trooped up to the bullpen to sit around and chat – or rather, sit around and make fun of Tony – until their friendly evening was interrupted by the ringing of Gibbs's phone. They all groaned in unison as Gibbs lifted the receiver. He listened, then hung up.

"Double suicide in Rock Creek Park," he announced. Tim and Tony immediately went to change out of their suits, and Gibbs turned to Kate. "Stay here," he said in a tone that brooked no argument.

She ignored his tone. "If I can't go on the crime scene, I want to go home."

"No." He shook his head. "You're still in protective custody. McGee hasn't found that son of a bitch yet, and I'm not taking any chances with you. You stay here. Go down to the lab with Abby."

Her face screwed up into an obstinate expression, and he reached out, his hand hovering over her left shoulder. She flinched back automatically, her eyes narrowing into a killing glare. He shook his head again. "I'm not," he said softly. "I just wanted you to remember what happened the last time I did." He stepped closer to her, looking down into her eyes. "I'm not Secret Service certified, Kate, but I'll keep you safe if you'll let me. Just like I let you."

She felt all the fight go out of her. "That's dirty pool, and you know it."

"Yeah, well, if it works…" he turned, shrugging out of his suit jacket and tossing it over the back of his chair, then retrieved his own more casual clothes and went to change before heading off to the crime scene.

Downstairs in the lab, Abby and Kate both changed out of their more formal clothing, Abby helping Kate with her shirt to avoid pulling more stitches. The one she'd pulled three days ago fighting with Tim during her nightmare had required repair at the emergency room, and the doctor had delivered a blistering lecture about not using her arm and shoulder while he was doing the repair. Kate had meekly accepted the rebuke and started asking for more help.

Once dressed again in casual clothing, Abby went to work, firing up her equipment and readying her workspace to start on whatever evidence the team brought her. Kate made herself comfortable at Abby's desk and began poking at the keyboard with her good hand, pulling up the interoffice mail server and putting in her password to check her email.

She stood while it was loading and went back into the main lab room. "Want a Caf-POW?"

Abby nodded. "You gonna go to the cafeteria?"

"Yeah." Kate made a face. "Then I'll get yelled at for going somewhere without supervision."

Abby laughed. "I'll go with you," she offered. They took the elevator up to the first floor and crossed over to the cafeteria, where they sat and enjoyed sandwiches and chips before taking their drinks back to the elevator.

"Let's swing through the office," Kate suggested. "I've got a book in my desk."

When they came out of the elevator, the first thing they noticed was the huge bouquet of flowers on Kate's desk. Kate squealed with glee at getting flowers, and the two women hurried over to see who had sent them. The bouquet itself was huge, a riot of colorful and delicious-smelling blossoms, and Kate paused to inhale the scent before locating the envelope and flipping it open. "I bet it's my dad," she said just before a Polaroid snapshot fell out of the envelope onto her desk.

She picked it up and turned it over in hands that began to tremble when she saw the image – it was Gibbs helping her out of the car earlier that evening, when they had arrived at the White House. She let the photo fall to the desktop again and pulled the card out of the envelope.

"Kate?" Abby asked softly when she saw her friend's face turn completely pale. "Kate, what is it?"

The card slipped from Kate's fingers, fluttering to the floor, and the agent reached out, picking up the flowers, vase and all, and walking down toward the emergency stairs. Abby watched as Kate entered the stairwell, and winced a moment later at a crashing sound that seemed to echo up. She ran over to see what had happened, and found Kate leaning over the railing, looking down the stairwell. At the bottom, those beautiful flowers lay scattered amongst the wreckage of what had been their vase. Wordlessly, Kate turned and passed Abby, going widely around the office to the other elevator. She stabbed the down button with one angry finger and stood there, staring blankly at the doors.

Abby walked over to Kate's desk and crouched, picking up the card and turning it over to look at it.

_You looked beautiful tonight,_ the card read. _You've really grown up amazing. I can't wait to see more of you. Neil._

"So, I ran the fingerprints on the card," Abby explained to Gibbs later as she told him about the flowers. "The only prints on it besides mine and Kate's are the girl who arranged the flowers, Marcie Keanes, and she popped up in AFIS because she's a dependant. Her husband's in the Navy, currently stationed on the _U.S.S. Forrestal._ The flowers actually came from a little independent flower shop called Bees' Knees Florist, which is right around the corner from the Navy Yard. Kate called and asked about them; the owner said a guy came in late this evening and paid extra to have the flowers delivered tonight."

"How much extra?" Gibbs asked.

"Enough that the owner delivered them himself," Abby replied. "And before you ask, he paid cash."

Gibbs stood, beginning to pace. "Could someone please explain to me how the hell this son of a bitch got close enough to take a Polaroid picture of us at the White House, and nobody saw him?"

Tim and Tony exchanged a glance and decided it was wiser not to speak. Abby pulled nervously on one of her ponytails.

Gibbs continued to pace until stopped by Kate's tired voice. "If it's all right with everyone concerned, I'm starting to get a little nauseous, and I think I'd like to go home now."

Everyone stopped, turning to face her. She was leaning against a wall, pale and sweating, and Abby stepped forward, staring. "Kate… you don't look so good."

"Yeah, well, I don't feel so good, Abbs," Kate said softly. She turned her eyes to Gibbs. "Can I… please… just go home?"

"You can go," Gibbs said, his voice gentle. "Straight to the ER. McGee, take her."

"I do not need the ER," Kate protested, trying to push herself into a standing position. "I want to go home."

"You're going to the hospital," Gibbs replied. "McGee, take her. Now."

Tim gathered his things quickly and moved to Kate's side, supporting her with one hand as they walked toward the elevator. "Don't worry," he murmured into her ear. "It's probably just a little infection."

"I do not have _time_ for a little infection," Tony heard her say as Tim herded her onto the elevator. "I have a _life_ to get back to."

As soon as the elevator door closed, Gibbs rounded on Abby and Tony. "I want to know everything – _everything_ – about this Neil Davenport. Abby, I want you on McGee's search, and I want to know where that email came from and who sent it. Tony –"

"Any surveillance tapes around the flower shop, on it." Tony moved for his gun and badge immediately, as Abby hastened back to her lab. Gibbs threw himself back into his chair and picked up the Polaroid photograph again, studying the image. She looked beautiful, grinning up at him for a joke he'd just made. He was smiling back down at her, proud of his protégé, this wonderful woman who'd been through so much, and who was getting recognized for it tonight by the President himself.

He shook his head, sitting back and lacing his fingers behind his head, studying the ceiling and thinking of Neil Davenport – and whoever was impersonating him. "I'll get you, you bastard," he murmured. "You're mine."

The doctor, a cheerful young woman with dishwater-blonde hair and sparkling eyes examined Kate's shoulder in the emergency room and pronounced it infected. "I'm gonna give you a shot of penicillin," the doctor explained, "and then I'm gonna write you a prescription for a Z-pack. Okay?"

"As long as I don't have to stay overnight, you can stick me with anything you want," Kate replied, smiling slightly.

The doctor glanced at Tim. "You'll need to watch her overnight," she admonished. "If this gets worse, or the fever hasn't broken by the morning, you need to bring her back immediately. Okay?"

Tim nodded. "I can do that."

The doctor pulled the fabric of the hospital gown back from Kate's shoulder, studying the stitches again. "What was the cause of the original wound?"

"Gunshot," Kate replied succinctly.

The doctor nodded, turning to her prescription pad. "How's the physical therapy coming along?"

"It's going well," Kate replied. "Or it would be," she added, with a sly sidelong glance at Tim, "if I wasn't coming down with infections and being stalked and under protective custody that wants to sit in my favorite chair and eat the last of my cookies."

"They were good cookies," Tim defended himself. "And it's a very comfortable chair."

As the doctor giggled, Kate narrowed her eyes at McGee. "Not helping."

He took her home after the shot and the prescription and helped her to bed, tugging her shoes off and pulling a blanket up over her. "You get some sleep," he murmured, stroking her hair back from her sweaty forehead. "You'll feel better in the morning."

He checked on her several times during the night, and was pleasantly surprised around two to find that her fever had finally broken and the infected area under the bandage was much smaller. By the morning it was almost gone, and when she stumbled out of bed around ten, he was making pancakes in her kitchen.

She rubbed at her face as he brought her a cup of coffee. "What are you doing?"

"Making pancakes," he replied. "Here." He set a plate on the counter in front of her and dished up two very fluffy pancakes. "You need to eat."

"We need to go in to work."

"No, we don't," he replied. "Gibbs called this morning and said that you're not to come in under any circumstances, and I'm authorized to handcuff you to something to keep you here if I need to."

Kate glared at her companion. "What are we supposed to do all day, then?"

"_You_ are supposed to get over your infection," Tim replied, dishing up his own pancakes. "And _I_ am supposed to work on tracking the guy who's stalking you."

"Tim, I cannot sit here all day with nothing to do!"

"You have plenty to do," Tim replied. "For starters, you can keep me company. I have a very long, very boring job ahead of me."

She glared at him, stuffing a bite of pancake in her mouth. "Handcuff me to something, huh?"

Tim nodded, taking a bite of his own food. "I'd hate to do it, but I'd rather have you mad at me than Gibbs mad at me. At least I know you'd get over it. Eventually. Gibbs would never let me live it down."

Kate's eyes narrowed. "How do you know I'd get over it?"

Tim grinned. "Because I know how much you like me."

Kate paused, studying Tim with a slightly cocked head. "You've really grown over the last year, Tim," she said suddenly. "If we'd been having this conversation a year ago, you'd have been stuttering so hard you couldn't get a word out."

He smiled grimly. "Watching one of your closest friends almost get killed will do that to you."

There didn't seem to be much else she could say to that, so Kate shut up and finished her pancakes. Tim washed the dishes, refusing to allow her to help, so she curled up on the end of the couch instead, watching him through the doorway.

Just before he finished with the dishes, the doorbell rang. Tim shut the water off and waved Kate into the bedroom before approaching the door and peering through the peephole. A man in a brown UPS uniform stood before the door, holding a clipboard and a small box.

Tim opened the door. "Can I help you?"

"Need you to sign for this," the man replied, holding out the clipboard. Tim obliged with a quick glance at the shipping label that left him cold. He took the box and waited for the delivery man to leave before going inside and setting it on the counter. Kate came out of her bedroom and started toward the box, only to have Tim take her by the arm and guide her back toward her bedroom. "Get dressed," he said softly. "We're going to the office for a few minutes."

"What is it?" she asked, her eyes flicking from the box to Tim's unusually grim face and back again.

"Just… get dressed. And pack a bag; we can't stay here any more."

"Tim," Kate said in a voice that only shook slightly, "what is in that box?"

"I don't know," Tim replied, "but we're not finding out here. Go pack a bag."

Gibbs looked up at the sound of the elevator bell and felt his eyebrows draw together in a scowl when Kate came off the elevator followed immediately by McGee. "I told you not to come in today," he began, but was cut off by McGee simply placing a small cardboard box on his desk.

"What's this?"

"Dunno, Boss," McGee replied. "Check out the label."

The return address, an Indianapolis address, carried the name N. Davenport. Kate tossed her overnight bag behind her desk and stepped forward to watch as Gibbs pulled on a pair of rubber gloves and picked up his knife. "Both of you step back."

They obeyed and watched as he sliced through the packing tape, lifting the flaps of the box carefully. He studied the contents of the box carefully, then reached inside and slowly pulled out a filthy blue piece of cotton.

Kate gasped, the blood draining out of her face. "Oh, my God."

"Is this what I think it is?" Gibbs asked softly.

She swallowed hard and nodded. "Yes."

His expression thunderous, Gibbs pulled the item out of the box, dropping it onto his desk. Tim stared in shock at the crumpled garment – a child's sleep shirt, imprinted with the image of a faded My Little Pony. A matching pair of pajama pants came out of the box next, followed by a pair of battered white canvas sneakers. Then came a bright yellow tee shirt, a pair of khaki shorts, and a pair of clear, sparkly jelly shoes.

Kate whimpered softly. "Those were Gina's," she whispered.

The final item he pulled from the box was a frilly pink nightgown, torn up one side and bloodstained. "Nikki?" Gibbs asked, his voice compassionate. Kate nodded.

Gibbs reached in one final time and pulled out a sheet of paper. The note on it was brief. _A little present for you. Remember all the fun we had back then? We're going to have even more fun now. You're mine, little Katie – all mine. Be seeing you soon. Very soon. _

"What's all that?"

Kate jumped slightly at the sound of Tony's voice behind her, then turned to him with a grim expression. "Clothes," she said succinctly, turning back to Gibbs. "What am I supposed to do now?" she asked, her voice high and trembling. "He knows where I _live_!"

Gibbs sat down in his chair, studying the clothing on his desk. "Right now, all you're supposed to do is calm down." He looked up at her. "Didn't I tell you I'll keep you safe?"

She nodded. "Yes, you did." She swallowed hard again, took a deep breath, and sighed. "All right. I'm calm."

Gibbs snorted softly. "The hell you are. Sit down, Kate, before you pass out." He repacked the items in the box, then held it out to McGee. "Take this down to Abby," he said. "Get her to see if she can find anything out. And find out where she is on Davenport."

McGee nodded, took the box and headed for the back elevator. Tony sat down at his own desk, pushing some folders aside and studying Kate across the bullpen. "You okay?" he asked softly.

"Not really," she replied, giving him a slight, humorless smile. "If I'm being honest, I've never been more uncertain in my entire adult life." She leaned forward, putting her face into the palm of her right hand. "I feel like that scared kid again," she admitted softly. "Like any second I'm gonna open my eyes and be eleven again, stuck down in that basement. Every time something comes up like this, it sends me into a tailspin."

"It's completely understandable," Tony replied sympathetically.

"Gibbs!" Abby's voice cut across the bullpen, raised with excitement, as she came barreling out of the elevator. "Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs! Guess what I found out!"

Gibbs raised an eyebrow, and Abby grabbed the remote control, flipping the plasma screen from the ZNN broadcast to a digital image of a man's Indiana driver's license. "Check this out! Neil Davenport? Has a brother!"


	3. Chapter 3

Kate surged up out of her chair, staring at the picture on the screen. "That's not his brother," she accused, her voice shaking. "That's him!"

"No, really, it's his brother," Abby insisted. "James Lee Davenport, age fifty, born and raised in the Indianapolis suburb of Noblesville, flunked out of Ivy Tech, blah de blah… but check it out – he and his brother are _identical twins._"

Kate sat down hard in her chair. "Oh, my God," she whispered. "There were _two_ of them?"

"Looks like it," Abby said sympathetically. "It would definitely explain why he was in possession of your clothes, and why he would, you know, know things about what happened with you."

"He said I tasted like cotton candy." Kate's voice was a bare whisper, and her face went slightly green just before her eyes rolled up into the back of her head. Tony jumped for her and was able to catch her just before she slumped to the floor.

She came to a second or so later, embarrassed but fine, and waved off Tony's help, though she accepted his bottle of water with gratitude.

"Where is he now, Abby?" Gibbs asked once he was sure Kate was fine.

Abby shrugged. "I'm not sure. He was working at a KFC in Plainfield until a few weeks ago, but Tim called and the manager there said he just up and quit suddenly – he hasn't even come in to collect his final paycheck."

"When did he quit?" Kate asked, her voice calm.

"The day after you were shot," Abby reported, confirming Kate's suspicion. "The same day the story broke nationally."

"So he saw me on the news, quit his job and came to D.C.," Kate said. "Probably spent the first few days finding me, and then he started with the sending stuff."

"No," McGee contradicted her. "First he sent an email."

"Hey, that's right," Tony agreed, snapping his fingers. "The first thing he did was send an email. Now, how'd he get your email address?"

Kate considered, then reached over and picked up the phone. She dialed a long distance number, waited, and then smiled reflexively as she began to speak. "Hey, Mom, it's me."

"_Caitlin!"_ her mother's voice replied. _"How are you, dear?"_

"I've been better," Kate confessed. "Mom, I need to know something. How many people did you give my work email address out to?"

"_Not many,"_ her mother said. _"Wait; I kept a list. Here we are: Leslie Jenkins, who lived down the block from us; April Pederson, who went to your elementary school; Richie Cohen, that nice Jewish boy you dated in the tenth grade; and James Lee, who you dated in college."_

Kate nodded. April Pedersen explained the influx of emails from girls she'd known in school; April had been the senior class president. But the last name was chilling. "Mom," she said softly, "I didn't date anyone named James Lee in college."

"_You didn't? Then where did he know you from?"_

Kate closed her eyes, briefly and spoke. "He's Neil Davenport's brother."

There was a very long silence over the phone line before Mrs. Todd spoke again. _"Oh, Katie,"_ she said softly. _"What are you going to do?"_

She smiled grimly. "What I do best, Mom. I'm gonna deal."

"_Are you going to come home?"_

Kate's eyes opened again, incredulity flooding her face. "Are you kidding? Come home and wait around for him to come get me? Not a chance. He's in D.C. and I work with the best case team NCIS has. We're gonna find him."

"_Katie… be careful."_

"I will, Mom. Don't worry. I'm harder to get rid of than you'd think." She smiled slightly. "I gotta go; I'll be in touch, but it may not be for a few days."

"_I'll be praying."_

"So will I." Kate hung up, then turned to her team. "Well, that's one question answered. The son of a bitch called my _mother_ and told her he dated me in college. She gave him the address."

"You really gotta talk to your mom about that," Abby commented.

"Later," Gibbs interjected. "Right now, here's what we're gonna do."

Forty-five minutes later, three unremarkable blue sedans left the NCIS evidence garage at the same time. All three of them followed the same path through the Navy Yard and out the main gate. At that point, one turned right, one turned left, and one drove straight forward.

The one that went forward headed straight up Fourth Street, caught Florida heading northwest, and then turned right on North Capitol, keeping up a northerly progression for about forty-five minutes, at which point the driver pulled over in a diner parking lot, went inside and had second breakfast while flirting outrageously with the waitresses.

The one that turned left turned again on South Capitol, crossed the river, and headed southeast on Suitland Parkway into Maryland, where it drove around aimlessly for about an hour before the driver went through a fast-food drive thru and took his food to a very nice park. He sat on a picnic table, the sun shining off his silver hair, for quite some time, tossing French fries to the birds and generally looking very relaxed.

The one that had gone right caught the Anacostia Freeway and headed south, merging onto the Washington Beltway and moving smoothly eastward through the traffic. As the Beltway rounded the city, the direction of travel grew gradually northward, a direction which was maintained when the driver merged onto I-95 and headed toward Baltimore.

Once in the city of Baltimore, the driver exited the freeway and drove in a seemingly aimless manner around the city for about an hour, before finally being certain that he was not being followed. He announced that status to his seemingly empty car, and the back seat raised up, permitting a very sweaty, very cranky Kate Todd and a very disgruntled Tony the Dog to exit the tiny hiding space. "Finally!" Kate griped.

Tim smiled slightly at her in the rearview mirror. "Want to stop for something to eat?"

"Are you absolutely a hundred percent sure we haven't been followed?"

"Yes," Tim said firmly.

Kate chewed her lip. "How much farther do we have to go?"

"Four more hours, maybe five," Tim replied. "Depending on traffic."

Kate sighed, reached back under the seat and back into the trunk, pulling her bag after her. "Yes. I'm starving and I'll never make it five hours."

"Okay. Any preference?"

"Someplace where I can get a killer dessert," Kate replied, pulling her hairbrush and compact mirror out of her bag. "I need chocolate."

It was nearing dusk before Tim finally turned on a side road in Nantucket, drove to the end of a street, and turned again into a sparsely-developed cul-de-sac. He drove straight to the end of the cul-de-sac and pulled into the driveway of a gorgeous two-story white Cape Cod-style house with black shutters and black trim. Shutting the engine off, he climbed out and dug through his pockets for his other keys. Kate climbed out as well, carrying the bag of take-out Chinese in one hand and trying to manage Tony's leash with the other.

Tim grabbed both their bags and took the dog's leash away from Kate, shutting and locking the car before heading for the front door of the house. Kate continued to stare. "This is your parents' _summer place_?" she asked incredulously.

Tim blushed slightly. "Yeah."

"My God. What's your regular house look like?"

Tim laughed softly. "It's not nearly as nice as this place; Dad inherited this from his dad a few years ago, and Mom won't let him sell it because she's always loved Nantucket. She's trying to talk him into moving here when he retires."

"I can see why," Kate admitted, following Tim up the front stairs and into the house.

The house was as lovely inside as outside, and Kate was almost afraid to let Tony loose in the house, but Tim waved her concerns off. "If she makes a mess, we'll clean it up. Don't worry about it." He let the dog off her leash. "We can put her outside by herself tomorrow, after I check the fence." Then he moved into the living room. "Let's crack some windows; it's a little stuffy in here."

Once the sea breeze was blowing comfortably through the house and the bags of groceries and belongings had been brought in, Tim and Kate sat down at the kitchen table and dug into their dinner while Tony munched comfortably on her kibble in the mud room. Kate found herself relaxing for the first time since she'd opened that horrible email, and she was even able to laugh at some of Tim's stories about DiNozzo's antics while she'd been on medical leave.

After eating, they ventured upstairs to see if any of the bedrooms were livable. None of the beds had sheets on them, though the comforters were all neatly folded at the ends of the bare mattresses, so Tim fetched clean sheets from a linen closet and began making up the king-sized bed in the master suite. "You can sleep in here," he told her. "There's a Jacuzzi tub if you want to soak."

She studied him for a long moment. "You know something, Tim? You might be the perfect man."

Tim snorted. "You obviously don't know me as well as you think you do." With that, he turned and left the room, shutting the door behind him.

Kate cracked the windows in the bedroom before heading into the bathroom, Tony darting at her heels, and starting to fill the tub. She stripped down and climbed in, careful not to get her injured shoulder under the water, settling in for a nice, long soak. When she woke, it was after midnight, the water was cold, and she'd forgotten to put out a towel, so she had to dart across the bathroom to get one out of the linen cupboard and then shiver until her temperature regained equilibrium.

Once she was dry, she climbed into the huge bed, pulling the comforter up over her head. Tony jumped up with her and burrowed under the sheets, curling up against the small of her back. Smiling, she settled back into dreamless sleep.

After leaving Kate alone in her room, Tim made his way down the hall to the next bedroom and made up the bed there, then crossing the hall to get a shower before returning to his bedroom and booting up his laptop. After a day like today, the most calming activity he could think of was killing zombies, so he started up Resident Evil and started working out his frustrations.

Around nine, his cell phone rang, and he paused his game to answer. "McGee."

"_You make it okay?"_

"Yeah, Boss," McGee replied, setting his computer aside. "No problems."

"_Good. How's she holding up?"_

"She's doing okay. We called it an early night."

"_Keep an ear out,"_ Gibbs advised him. _"She had nightmares the whole time she stayed with me."_

"Will do, Boss." McGee sat back against the headboard. "Did either of you have any trouble?"

"_DiNozzo's pretty sure the guy followed him. I know he wasn't on me, not unless he's better than I am."_ Left unspoken was the obvious assumption that no one was better than Gibbs, and McGee found himself smiling.

"Good; I'll tell Kate in the morning. I'm sure it will help her relax even more."

"_Still, make sure she stays in as much as possible."_

"Of course." Tim nodded once. "Anything else?"

"_Not so far. We've got a team on her apartment just in case. Hopefully he'll show up there. Did you ever get anything on that email?"_

"Oh, I forgot to check. One second." Tim switched windows and pulled up his search bot. "There it is; it came from an internet café in College Park." He paused. "This guy's good; he must have gone through a hundred switches to make it look like it came from Indiana. What's he doing working at a KFC?"

"_He's a psycho baby-rapist, McGee. You were expecting logic and a full-time job?"_

McGee shrugged. "You can never tell."

"_Think next time."_ Gibbs made a sound of impatience. _"I'll be in touch."_ The line went dead, and Tim closed his phone and went back to his zombies.

The following morning dawned stormy, so there was no need to worry about keeping Kate indoors; neither she nor Tim, nor even the dog, had any desire to go outside. Kate was even more relaxed after Tim reported that Tony thought her stalker had followed him; relieved that their shell game seemed to have worked, she hugged Tim tightly and all but inhaled the strawberry waffles he'd made for breakfast. Then, to stave off boredom, Tim climbed up into the attic and lugged down a trunk full of board games. They spent the day in the living room playing Monopoly, Scrabble, dominoes and even Connect Four.

Gibbs called around midafternoon, interrupting a very rousing game of Risk, just in time to hear Kate curse vividly in French when Tim's little plastic army captured Iceland. _"What the hell are you two doing up there?"_ Gibbs asked irritably.

Tim chuckled. "Keeping ourselves occupied," he said simply. "It's storming like crazy and we don't have cable."

"_You're keeping yourself occupied by teaching Kate to swear like she's in the French Foreign Legion?"_

Tim laughed. "Actually, it's the other way around. I'm not really sure what some of those words even meant."

"Well at least two of them involved sexually transmitted diseases that your mother may or may not have had while she was pregnant with you," Kate advised him, snagging the phone neatly and giving him her most charming smile. "Hey, Gibbs."

"_How you holding up?"_

"Oh, I'm fine. It's really nice out here. Very peaceful. And Tim's teaching me how to lose gracefully."

Gibbs laughed softly. _"So I heard. Checked your email today?"_

"Not yet. Tim, can you grab your computer so I can check my email?"

"Sure." Tim headed upstairs, and Kate returned to her conversation.

"I did check my voice mail," she said. "I had a couple of hang-ups at home, and my cell phone hasn't rung."

"_I'll have Abby check the numbers that called you today."_

"Okay." Kate paused as Tim returned with the computer, and logged into her work email. "Hmm. Another sexual harassment seminar? Didn't we just have one?" She sighed. "Interdepartmental newsletter, something from the Philly P.D. following up on that drug trafficking stuff… aha. What are you?"

"_What do you have, Kate?"_

Kate took a deep breath. "Something from Davenport."

"_What's it say?"_

"I don't know. I haven't opened it yet." Kate took another deep breath and clicked.

The email was timestamped slightly before she had left NCIS secreted under the back seat of a car, and the subject line read "I hope you liked your present."

_I've been saving it for you all these years,_ the body of the message read. _I know you won't fit into them any more – you've gotten a lot taller, after all – but that's okay because we won't need clothes for the games we're going to play. eorI'm coming for you, Katie. We're going to have so much fun together, you and I. Remember the basement? It's okay if you don't, because you'll be familiar with it again very soon. And the next time you go down there, you won't leave. I promise you that. You'll stay with me and play with me forever._

_Doesn't that sound like fun?_

Kate shuddered as she read the email in a mechanical voice, Tim's hands on her shoulders for comfort. After she finished, Gibbs spoke. _"Have McGee trace that email,"_ he said. _"And just stay calm. He has no idea where you are, and it'll stay that way until we catch the son of a bitch. Okay?"_

"Okay," Kate replied softly, smiling slightly at his protective tone. "I'm calm. I promise."

"_Good."_ The line went dead.

Kate paused, studied the phone, and sighed as she flipped it closed. "Someday I swear he'll learn how to say goodbye at the end of a conversation."

Tim laughed. "Keep wishing."

They returned to their game. As the evening grew later, they progressed to Uno, then discovered that Pictionary just wasn't as fun without a whole group of people. With that lesson learned, they also set aside Taboo. Staring down into the bottom of the trunk, McGee began to laugh. "Look what we have!"

He pulled out a bright yellow and red box, and Kate nearly squealed with delight. "Oh, God, that was my favorite game when I was a kid!"

"Let me go see if I can find some batteries."

While he was digging through the kitchen cabinets, a crack of thunder boomed right overhead, and the lights sputtered and went out. "Bringing candles!" he shouted.

"Standing still in the dark!" Kate shouted back.

Tim returned to the living room with his arms full of candles and two AA batteries. They lit the candles first, setting them around the room to cast a nice glow, and Tim installed the batteries into the game, then magnanimously offered the tool to Kate. "Ladies first."

She grinned, taking it in hand, and studied the board before her. "Here we go," she said. "Charley horse."

"A bold choice," Tim approved, and then laughed when she buzzed the side of the slot.

Chuckling, she handed over the tweezers, and Tim successfully removed their patient's funny bone. "Oh, sure," Kate complained. "Go for the easy one."

Chuckling, he went for 'water on the knee' next, knowing full well that he wouldn't be able to pull it off. He handed Kate the tweezers again, then stood. "Be right back."

"I'm gonna pull all of these while you're gone," she threatened.

"I'll be able to hear the buzzing from the kitchen," he pointed out as he left the room. When he returned, he was carrying a bottle of red wine and two glasses. "Drink?"

"Oh, that would be wonderful."

From Operation they moved to Battleship and then, having exhausted all the games in the trunk, went back to the dominoes. "We used to do this during storms at home," Kate admitted.

"Light candles, get drunk and play board games?"

Kate laughed. "Light candles and play dominoes," she clarified, taking a sip of her wine. "We were never big drinkers, being between the ages of nine and twenty, so we usually passed on the liquor part of the evening."

"Makes sense," Tim replied, grinning.

Tim couldn't help but notice the way she relaxed even more after her second glass of wine, and how the candlelight seemed to turn her golden eyes into deep black pools that he could drown in. Kate couldn't help but notice how the flickering shadows made him look mysterious and a little bit scary, and how he seemed to delight in every chance he got to touch her, even in the most innocent of ways.

Somewhere around the middle of the bottle, they made eye contact over the ivory pieces, and she smiled in a way that she'd never smiled at him before. It was a smile that everything male in him responded to immediately, a smile that made his inner Neanderthal cry out in defiance and want. He smiled back, and suddenly there was an electricity in the air between them that had never been there before. Suddenly they weren't NCIS Special Agents any more; they weren't even Kate and Tim any more. They were a woman and a man alone in a house, sharing a bottle of wine and some candlelight.

When he leaned across the table to pour the last of the wine into her glass, she was looking down at her dominoes; she happened to glance up when he leaned, and suddenly their faces were mere inches apart, and he was staring into her eyes, searching for a sign that she was feeling the same things he was feeling.

It was there; he could see it in those inky depths. He leaned forward just a little bit more and touched her lips softly with his own.

Her eyes fluttered closed at the contact and she made the softest sound of surrender he had ever heard a woman make before – the tiniest of sighs, nothing more – but her lips parted just a fraction and he pressed his advantage, parting them farther with his own and teasing them with the tip of his tongue.

He set the wine bottle down blindly on the floor and reached for her, burying his fingers in her hair and cupping her head with his palm as he deepened the contact, flicking his tongue now across the edges of her teeth and then sliding it inside her mouth to taste her.

She gave a soft whimper when her tongue met his, her own hand coming up to thread through his hair, and she met his advances with equal desire, drawing his lower lip into her mouth to suck gently on it, rubbing it with the flat of her tongue to make him moan. His fingers flexed against her skull, burying deeper into her hair while the scents of her shampoo and her light perfume wrapped around his brain and drove themselves into his soul.

He released her lips, giving them both a chance to catch their breaths, and moved around the table so that he was kneeling in front of her, studying her face. When her eyes finally opened again, they were heavy-lidded and full of desire, and he pulled her out of her chair to kneel with him on the floor, her knee between his. His right hand was still under her hair; his left trailed down her body to rest on her hip as he leaned forward to claim her lips again.

This kiss was not gentle; it was a fierce plundering of her mouth with all the force and passion behind it that Tim McGee had in his body. Kate whimpered again, louder this time, and returned the favor, her arms wrapping around his neck as she moved to straddle his lap, pressing her body against his. She felt like a living flame in his arms, all hot, fragrant skin and sweet, delicious mouth, and he was lost in her.

When he broke the kiss this time, he did not release the contact; instead, he drew his lips and tongue down her jawline toward her ear. Just before he got there, he headed down her neck, nipping and licking and finding out just what sorts of sounds he could coax from her if he kissed her pulse point or sucked at the column of her throat. Her head fell back, granting him access, and she moaned, writhed, whimpered and gasped as he worked his will on her tender flesh.

She had never felt anything like this before; she'd been with men who were skilled lovers, but even then it was nothing, absolutely nothing like this. The things he was doing to her, the fires he was kindling in her body, were burning her from the inside out. She needed him to stop before she exploded, but she wanted him to never, ever stop.

His hands slid under the hem of her shirt and pushed it upward, and she winced when it tugged at her sore shoulder. "Careful!"

He leaned forward and placed several soft kisses around the area. "Sorry." Then he went back to removing her shirt, more gently this time. A moment later it was in the floor, and was followed quickly by her bra while his mouth and hands took over the task of cupping her breasts. Her hands came back up to cup his head, encouraging him to continue with his very pleasurable activities. When her hips began to rub determinedly against his own, he wrapped his arms around her torso and gently laid her on her back on the rug, supporting himself over her on his palms, staring into her lust-glazed eyes. "Kate," he whispered, nuzzling behind her ear, "are you sure you want this?"

She reached up and unbuttoned the neck of his polo shirt, then reached down to tug the hem of it out of his pants. "I'm sure," she said softly. "Please, Tim. I want you."

He shrugged out of his shirt, leaning down to kiss her breathless again while her hands explored his torso and his back, learning his skin and the places that made him moan into her mouth. Her fingers made quick work of his belt buckle, opening the button of his jeans and drawing the zipper down carefully before reaching in.

He groaned, thrusting into her grip automatically, and then reached down to grasp her wrist and pull it out of his pants. "You don't know how much I like that," he murmured against her ear, "but I don't want this to end before it begins." Then he began to slowly make his way down her body, licking and kissing his way across soft, fragrant flesh. He paid special attention to her nipples before moving down to her belly, pushing his tongue into her navel to give her a small preview of coming attractions. She cried out when he did that, her fingers gripping at the rug beneath her.

When he got to the waistband of her pants, he gave her one last chance to back out. "Are you absolutely sure?" he asked her, his hands on the button of her jeans.

"I'm sure," she promised, then lifted her hips in blatant lascivious invitation.

He didn't need it.

When it was over, he kissed her gently and stood, gathering their clothes and helping her to her feet. They blew out all but one remaining candle and, hands joined, they used it to light their way upstairs, where they climbed together into her bed before blowing that candle out. Then, wrapped in each other's arms, they surrendered to a sated sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

When Kate woke the next morning, the sun was in her eyes, the electricity was back on, and a strong pair of arms was wrapped around her waist. For a long moment she lay very still, trying to remember where she was and how she'd gotten there, and then the events of the previous evening came back in a sudden rush. Tim. She'd had sex with Tim. _Very hot, very awesome sex_, her traitorous body reminded her, aching as it did sweetly in all the right places – except one.

She slipped out of bed, careful not to wake him, and padded into the bathroom for a quick shower, favoring her left arm carefully. When she climbed out of the shower, she peeled the bandages away and examined the wound. Thankfully, she'd managed not to pull any stitches, but it hurt like hell and she knew she'd strained it during last night's aerobics. She put a new bandage in place, dug a tank top and a pair of shorts out of the bag she hadn't unpacked yet, and dressed carefully, adding the sling she'd left off yesterday because even she knew when to say when.

Relaxing her arm into the canvas made her shoulder ache less, but she popped a couple of Tylenol anyway and then moved to the doorway of the bathroom, running her brush through her hair and studying the sleeping figure in her bed. She had had sex with Tim McGee. No, she corrected herself, running it through her mind again. She had _made love_ with Tim. There was no doubt about the way he'd touched her that he wasn't just using her body; he had touched her with real affection in a way that very few men ever had before. And she had to admit in the spirit of full disclosure: she wanted that again.

Gibbs was going to kill her.

When Tim woke up, he was alone, and his heart sank. She probably hated him now; he'd taken advantage of her when she was drunk and feeling vulnerable, and it was unconscionable. He rolled out of bed quickly, berating himself all the way down the hall to his own room, where he pulled on jeans and a rugby shirt before heading downstairs and hoping like hell she hadn't already taken off in the sedan.

She hadn't; in fact, she was standing in the kitchen, trying to whisk eggs with one hand and not doing well because the mixing bowl kept moving. He moved up behind her and reached around her to hold the bowl for her with his left hand. When she looked up in surprise, he gave her his best apologetic look. "Kate," he began, but she cut him off by the simple expedient of tiptoeing to press a kiss to his lips.

"What do you want in your omelet?" she asked.

He paused, running the question through his mind again, and the kiss that had preceded it. It certainly sounded nothing like the accusations he'd expected. In fact, it sounded rather as though she'd kissed him and asked what he wanted in his omelet. On the off chance that he'd heard her correctly, he said, "Ham and cheese is fine," because that was what she had on the counter for, he assumed, her own omelet.

"You sure?" she asked, giving him a small smile. "Because if you want onion or anything that has to be chopped, you'll have to chop it yourself."

"I'm sure," he said, studying her face. He tried again. "Kate," he said, and she kissed him again. If he hadn't known better, he'd swear she was trying to shut him up.

"Go set the table," she ordered, turning back to her whisking.

Tim McGee had always considered himself to be fairly intelligent. He studied the back of her neck for a long moment, visible behind her low ponytail, and leaned down to press a soft kiss to her shoulder. When he straightened again, she was smiling, and he went to set the table.

Breakfast was good, and he complimented her cooking several times before she put her fork down and reached across the table, covering his hand with hers. "Tim. Please. Stop."

He stared at her, swallowed, and stammered, "Uh, st- stop what, Kate?"

"Stop acting like I'm gonna bite your head off any second if you say the wrong thing. Everything's okay." Suddenly she paused as a thought occurred to her that hadn't occurred to her before, and he watched the confidence drain out of her face, to be replaced by a nervous insecurity that wasn't like Kate at all. "I mean… everything's okay, right?" she asked softly, and he felt her hand begin to tremble on his.

He covered her hand with his own and squeezed it firmly. "I'm okay if you're okay," he said softly, looking into her eyes. "Kate… last night was… amazing. And I know we were drunk, and we shouldn't have done it, but if you don't regret it, then I don't regret it." He paused, took a deep breath, and added gently, "And I want to do it again."

Her eyes were huge as she studied him across the table, and she swallowed hard, her eyes suspiciously shiny. "I do, too," she whispered, and he smiled.

"Good. Then that's settled. Everything's okay." He raised her hand and pressed a kiss to her fingers, then smiled at her. "Eat."

She did, watching him carefully from under her eyelashes as he dug back into his own food. When they finished eating, he insisted on washing the dishes, and she stayed in her chair, her knees drawn up to her chest, watching him with an unreadable expression. When he finished, he tossed the dish towel onto the counter, pulled her out of her chair, and kissed her soundly. Then he smiled down at her slightly startled expression. "Better?"

She smiled back. "Better," she confirmed.

"Good. Think you can occupy yourself while I do some tracking on that email from yesterday?"

She nodded, still smiling, and he leaned down to kiss the tip of her nose. "Okay. I'll be in the study."

Kate busied herself cleaning up the living room after yesterday's game marathon, which was a bigger task than usual considering that she only had one good hand. She tucked the games away neatly in the trunk and carried the candles back into the kitchen using her sling as a carrying sack, then she stood in the doorway for a long moment, staring at the spot on the carpet where they had made love the previous night. _How strange,_ she thought to herself, _it looks so ordinary, but I don't feel ordinary at all after that._ She didn't feel the slightest bit worried or self-conscious about it; she realized with a shock that she didn't even feel the usual impulse to go to confession as she almost always did. Premarital sex was a sin, after all, and she valued her faith above almost everything.

So why didn't she feel the things she usually felt after a night like last night? _Maybe,_ her mind whispered, _because last night was different._

She considered the thought. Last night _was_ different. _Tim_ was different. He wasn't just any man; he was _Tim_, and Tim didn't take sex lightly. If he had sex with her, even drunk, he meant it and he meant the emotions behind it.

She stared at that spot on the carpet in shock, feeling like she'd been whacked between the eyes with a two-by-four. Was it possible that Tim was in love with her?

The sound of his voice brought her out of her reverie a few moments later; he was coming out of the study while talking on his cell phone. He walked down the hall toward the kitchen, not seeing her, and she heard him open the refrigerator while he spoke. "No," he was saying, "I think it's a false lead." There was a long pause, and then he said, "Well, double check me if you want. I'm telling you there's another switch past that one."

Kate heard the sound of an aluminum can being popped open. Then Tim spoke again. "See? I told you."

She smiled, opening the French doors and stepping outside. Tony came bounding up with a stick in her mouth, so Kate sat down on the wooden steps of the wraparound porch and took it, throwing it and watching with a smile as the dog chased after it. The action was repeated several times before Tim came out onto the porch with her. "Hey," he said softly, not wanting to startle her. "I was looking for you."

"Congratulations; you found me," she replied whimsically, smiling up at him. "What's up?"

"Just wanted to see what you were doing. I've got a bot tracing that email from yesterday; he ran it through a bunch of switches to hide its origin again."

Kate nodded, turning to look out toward the ocean. Tim sat down next to her, studied her carefully, and put a tentative arm around her shoulders. When she leaned against him, accepting his support, he smiled and kissed the top of her head gently. "You know Gibbs is gonna kill us both, right?" he murmured into her hair.

She laughed softly. "I'm not too worried. Besides, I don't intend to tell him. Not yet, anyway."

"No?"

She shook her head, glancing up at him. "You really want Tony asking you how your weekend was with that leer of his?"

Tim cocked his head and admitted she had a point. "Not really."

"Well, then. Besides, it's not Gibbs's business if we don't take it to work."

He leaned down and nuzzled the side of her neck. "But aren't we technically at work?"

"Only technically," she replied, arching her head to the side to give him better access.

Tim laughed, nipped her skin gently, and then reached down to pet the curious animal who'd clambered up between them to see what they were doing. "How about hamburgers for dinner? I could fire up the grill."

"Sounds yummy." She smiled up at him, reaching down to take Tony's stick again. "Talk to Gibbs today?"

Tim shook his head. "Not yet. I'm sure he'll call if –" His words were cut off by the ringing of his cell phone. He pulled it out of his pocket and checked the screen. "If anything happens." He flipped the phone open. "Yeah, Boss?"

"_Kate got another delivery. More flowers, another note. You got anything on that email yet?"_

"Not yet. The tracking bot's running. What did the note say?"

"_Don't worry about it. It'll just upset her."_ Gibbs sighed. _"Call me when you get something on that email."_

"Will do, Boss." The line went dead, and Tim hung up as well. "You got more flowers," he advised Kate. "But he wouldn't tell me what the note said."

"Just as well; I'm sure I can guess. More talk about playing games, more talk about how much fun we'll have. If he's realized I'm gone, there'll be some frothing about that." She shook her head. "I know how this kind of thing operates."

"If you want to talk about it at all, you know I'm here," Tim said softly, pulling her close. "I won't judge you, I won't repeat what you say."

She smiled, wrapping her good arm around his waist. "Thanks," she said softly. "I'm mostly okay. I'm starting to get my equilibrium back. It just…" She sighed. "When that email came in, it was like all of a sudden I was eleven years old again, you know?"

He held her tighter. "You're not," he said softly. "You're…" he paused. "How old are you, anyway?"

Kate grinned. "Thirty-one. How old are you?"

"Twenty-nine. I'll be thirty in a couple of months." He kissed her ear. "You're not eleven any more. You're thirty-one, and you're a Federal agent with a bunch of Federal agent friends. He can't hurt you. We won't let him."

"I know." She rested her head on his shoulder. "Thank you."

They sat there for a long time, just being together and enjoying the afternoon, until the stillness was broken by a call from over the picket fence. "Yoo-hoo! Is that you, Timothy?"

Tim looked up and gave a very soft sigh. "It's me, Mrs. Anderson." He lowered his voice. "Mrs. Anderson is the very old, very nosy, very annoying lady next door. Why don't you head on inside; if she recognizes you, she'll tell the whole town you're here."

Kate stood and headed inside quickly, the door shutting behind her just as Mrs. Anderson's head became visible over the top of the fence. "Who's that with you, Timothy?"

Tim blushed slightly. "A lady friend," he explained. "We came up to get away from the city for awhile."

"Oh, how lovely," Mrs. Anderson breathed. "Timothy, you've always had such a romantic soul." She reached over the fence to pat his cheek familiarly. "What's her name?"

"Kate," Tim replied.

"How lovely. You and Kate will have to come over for supper before you leave." She patted his cheek again, and he fought to keep from flinching away. "How long are you here for?"

"We haven't really decided. Probably just a few more days."

She raised her eyebrows. "You can be away from work that long?"

"Well, we've got a couple of weeks off," Tim lied, "but we may go back to the city, or we may go visit family. That's what we haven't decided about."

"I see. Well, you just let me know when's a good day for you, and I'll fix you my good clam chowder. I remember you always liked it when you were a boy."

"You bet, Mrs. Anderson," Tim replied, then turned and headed inside.

After getting off the phone with Tim, Gibbs sat back in his chair and stared at the image of James Davenport on his computer screen. _I will get you_, he thought fiercely. _I don't care what it takes._ He sat there pondering the face on his screen for a few moments, then looked up as the elevator bell rang.

"Got it, Boss," Tony announced, coming off the elevator with a compact disc in his hand. He popped it into the player and began to run it forward.

"What do you got?"

"Surveillance video," Tony replied. "There's an ATM across the street from the flower shop the second delivery came from, with a perfect view of the shop and its whole parking lot. Davenport came in around nine-thirty this morning."

They stood before the plasma screen, watching, until Tony suddenly paused the tape. "There." He pointed at a dark-colored Hyundai Sonata on the black-and-white video. "Isn't that an Indiana tag?"

"I think so," Gibbs replied. "Get that down to Abby; see if she can enlarge the image."

Tony took the disc down in the back elevator and handed it to Abby with a flourish. She sped through the video to the appropriate section, then enhanced the image until they could read the tag number. Tony wrote it down and headed back upstairs with it. Upon running the tag through the database, he crowed with delight. "Gotcha, you bastard."

"Is that him?"

"That's him. Putting out a BOLO now, Boss."

"Good." Gibbs nodded once. "As soon as we get a call, we move."

It didn't take long; about half an hour after the BOLO went out, a call came in from the Silver Spring P.D. advising them that the vehicle they were looking for had been spotted in the vicinity of Kate's apartment. Both men grabbed their guns and headed for the motor pool.

The drive didn't take long, but it was punctuated as they entered the Silver Spring city limits by a call from the team watching Kate's apartment. _"Agent Gibbs,"_ Balboa greeted him. _"A Hyundai Sonata with Indiana plates just parked in front of Agent Todd's building and the driver's headed for her front door."_

"Watch him closely. Do not engage. DiNozzo and I are on the way, less than ten minutes out."

"_Will do – uh oh."_

"What is it? Balboa, what's going on?"

"_He's entering her apartment."_

"Cover the entrances and exits. Do not lose him!" Gibbs snapped the phone shut and floored the car.

Six minutes later, Gibbs swung the car into the parking lot of Kate's apartment complex and pulled up next to the building, on the opposite side from her apartment. He spied Balboa behind the building, covering Kate's bedroom window, and waved once. Balboa pointed into the window, indicating that Davenport was still inside. Gibbs nodded once and pulled his gun, moving to the side and around the next door apartment and heading for Kate's front door.

The door was tightly closed, and Gibbs saw Axelrod not far away, behind a car, watching the living room window and the front door. Axelrod saw him and nodded, and Gibbs nodded back. He and Tony took up positions on either side of the door, and Tony reached down, slowly turning the doorknob.

The door swung open, and they moved fluidly, Tony taking a knee and Gibbs stepping to the side, so that the doorway was completely covered. The entry hall was empty, as was the part of the living room that was visible from the door. They entered slowly, guns extended, moving down the hall a slow step at a time. Noise from the bedroom got Gibbs's attention and he jerked his head in that direction, getting a nod in reply from Tony.

They moved around the corner and were confronted with the sight of Davenport, his pants around his ankles, masturbating over Kate's bed. Tony stared in disgust. Gibbs released the safety on his gun. "Federal agents," he announced. "Do not move, you disgusting bag of filth."

Davenport froze, then moved his hand once more and groaned, soiling the nice green bedspread on Kate's bed. Then he chuckled. "I'll just leave that as a present," he said before turning to face them and slowly raising his hands over his head.

"Very slowly," Tony said, "put your fucking pants on. And if you so much as twitch wrong, I will shoot that thing right off your body."

Davenport reached down and slowly pulled his pants back up, fastening them and his belt. Then he put his hands back up.

"James Davenport?" Gibbs confirmed.

Davenport nodded slowly.

"Come on out here," Gibbs said.

Davenport moved toward them slowly, and when he was close enough, Tony stepped forward and handcuffed him. "You're under arrest," Tony said, "for threatening a federal officer, stalking, harassment, rape, accomplice to rape, child abuse, and anything else I can think of before I get you to booking." He grabbed Davenport a little harder than necessary and dragged him outside while Gibbs called Axelrod and Balboa in to start processing the evidence in Kate's apartment.

His cell phone rang as he was helping Axelrod get the comforter off Kate's bed. He flipped it open without looking at it. "Yeah. Gibbs."

"_Tracked that email,"_ Tim advised him. _"Came from the same Internet café as the last one."_

"Tell Kate we got the son of a bitch," Gibbs said.

There was a long silence, and then Tim's voice came back quietly. _"Tell her yourself,"_ he said, and there was a silence as, presumably, the phone was passed over. He heard Tim's voice. _"Talk to Gibbs."_

"_Gibbs?"_ Kate's voice came on the line. _"What's up?"_

"We got him, Kate," he told her. "Tony's taking him back to be processed right now."

There was another long silence, and then Kate spoke again, her voice a bare whisper. _"Really?"_

"Really," he assured her.

"_Where'd you get him?"_

Gibbs paused, then sighed. "In your apartment," he said. "You're gonna need a new bedspread."

"_I don't even want to know why,"_ she replied. _"Gibbs… thank you."_

"You're welcome," he told her sincerely. Then he hung up. He remained in Kate's apartment until Balboa and Axelrod were done, then made sure it was locked up tight before he left.


	5. Chapter 5

Kate put the phone down on the coffee table slowly and stared at Tim. "They got him."

"Yes, they did," Tim said softly. "It's over."

She looked back down at the phone on the table, looked back up at Tim, and burst into tears.

He moved immediately, pulling her to him and sitting down on the couch with her in his lap, cradling her close to him and letting her cry out all the tension she'd been carrying since that first email came in. He held her tight, stroked her hair and murmured soothing words until she finally settled into sniffles and hiccups, then kissed her head. "Better?"

"Much," she said, looking up at him with a watery half-smile. "Thanks."

He kissed her gently again. "Anytime. I mean that." He stroked her hair back from her face, and she leaned over to kiss him. Where his kiss had been a gentle peck, though, hers was more – much more. She took his lower lip between her own, sucking it gently before opening her mouth and sliding her tongue into his.

Their tongues danced together as her fingers crept into his hair and his hands slipped under her tank top, exploring her back before sliding around to push her bra up and tweak her nipples. She gasped into his mouth and shifted, straddling his lap, to grind her hips against his rapidly-waking hardness. Then she pulled back and grinned wickedly, shifting and sliding backwards until she was kneeling between his feet.

He helped her unfasten his jeans and raised up so she could tug them down, and moaned softly when she wrapped her hand around him and leaned down to caress him with her tongue.

"Jesus, Kate," he whispered, and then his head fell back against the couch as she opened her mouth and took him inside.

Her mouth was hot, wet, tight and sinful. He was panting, trying not to thrust, and moaning her name rhythmically when a sound echoed through the room that deflated him instantly.

"Timothy McGee!" his mother's voice exclaimed in horror.

Tim's eyes snapped open and stared in shock at his mother, who was standing in the living room doorway. "Mom!" he said, his voice strangled, as he and Kate both scrambled up and away from each other. He turned his back to his mother, fastening his pants quickly and shooting Kate a panicked look.

She had made it to the other side of the living room in record time and was staring at the French doors as though she would like nothing more than to disappear through them, screaming. Her face was flaming with embarrassment and he was sure his was as well. Under ordinary circumstances, he would approach his mother and hug her, but something told him that such a greeting would not be welcome right now. He settled for a weak "What are you doing here?"

"Your father and I decided to get away for the weekend," Linda McGee snapped. "We certainly weren't expecting to find you using the house as your own personal rumpus room!"

Just then, the front door slammed. "Linda? Did you find him?" a man's voice called out.

"I most certainly did!" Tim's mother replied. "In the living room!"

Jack McGee came around the corner and grinned at the sight of his son. "Tim! Why didn't you tell us you were coming up here this weekend?"

"I forgot," Tim said, his voice weak.

Jack's brow furrowed in confusion at his son's strange tone and expression, and then he caught sight of the dark-haired woman with the flaming red face who was inching ever closer to the French doors. He put two and two together instantly, and pulled his wife away from the door. "Linda. Why don't we give them a moment alone."

"Oh, they've had all the moments alone that I think they need," Linda said fiercely, but Jack pulled her away anyway.

"They're adults, Linda. You remember what it was like to be that age."

"Well, I certainly never would have been caught in a young man's living room with my face in his lap!" they heard her snap as he dragged her down the hallway. "In broad daylight!"

Tim moved to Kate's side and took her in his arms, covering her hot, flushed cheek with one hand. "Sorry," he said softly. "I had no idea they were coming up here."

"It's not your fault," she murmured into his shoulder. Then she sighed. "Well, I suppose your mother is going to officially hate me now."

Tim laughed softly. "She's not gonna hate you. She may give you funny looks and make pointed comments, but once she gets to know you, she's gonna love you." He stroked her hair back, lifted her face with a finger under her chin, and kissed her gently. "I promise."

Kate laughed softly, a sound of disbelief. "Tim, she just walked in on me with your dick in my mouth. She's gonna think I'm a slut."

Tim opened his mouth to refute that statement and then closed it again. "Oh," he finally said.

"Yeah, oh." She shook her head. "I'm gonna go upstairs and pack my stuff."

His eyebrows drew together in confusion. "You want to leave?"

She laughed softly again. "You don't think she's gonna let me _stay_ here, do you? Besides, even if she does, I'm in the master suite." She let him go and started around him, pausing when he caught her hand in his.

"Kate. She won't throw you out. She knows better." He pulled her close and kissed her again, warm and deep. "I'll go talk to her."

Kate nodded and stepped away, heading upstairs. Tim took a deep breath and headed down to the kitchen to deal with his parents.

His mother was sitting primly at the kitchen table; his father was leaning against the counter with a soda can in his hand. She looked furious; he looked amused. Tim stepped into the kitchen with a martyred expression on his face. "Hi Mom, hi Dad, how was your trip?" he asked in a monotone.

"Oh, stop it," his father replied, chuckling. "It happens. You should have warned us you were bringing someone up here; we'd have stayed home."

"Well, I didn't plan it out this way," Tim explained. "We came up here to get her away from a stalker."

His mother raised her eyebrows. "A stalker?" Then she sniffed. "If that's how she behaves with _all_ the men she knows, I'm not surprised she's got some crazy man after her."

"It's not like that!" Tim snapped. "You don't even know her, so don't make judgments!"

There was a momentary silence, and then Jack McGee said quietly, "You really like this girl."

"Yeah, I do," Tim said softly. "I might even love her. Look, the situation's complicated, okay? We needed to get her away while we hunted this guy down. I brought her up here. Things happened. I wasn't expecting it, she wasn't expecting it, but it happened, and we're trying to build something out of it. Mom, I know it was a shock, walking in on us like that. But if you can't be nice to her, we'll leave. Now."

Linda's face was stormy, but she conceded. "I'll do my best."

"Thank you."

"She's a pretty girl, son," Jack said, steering the subject away carefully. "What's her name?"

"Kate," Tim said. "Kate Todd."

Jack's eyebrows went up again. "Wait, isn't she the one you work with that just got the medal? Took a bullet from a terrorist, wasn't it?"

"Yeah. She almost died. That's why she's still wearing the sling; she doesn't even have her stitches out yet." Tim pulled out another chair at the table and sat down. "It's been a rough couple of weeks."

"Sounds like it," Jack agreed. "You'll stay, of course."

Tim blinked. "Stay?"

His mother blinked as well. "Stay?"

"Stay the weekend here with us," Jack clarified. "Let us get to know her, spend some time with you. We barely see you since you moved to D.C."

Tim began to stammer, his mother began to splutter, and Kate's voice cut across them both. "If you'd like us to," she said, her voice calm. "We were going to make hamburgers tonight, but we don't have enough ground meat for four. Tim, if you'll give me the keys and directions to the store, I'll go get some more."

"Not necessary," Jack replied, grinning at Kate. "We'll go out."

Forty-five minutes later, Kate found herself in the back seat of the McGee family car, holding tightly to Tim's hand, as his father drove them through Nantucket to a little seafood place that he claimed served the best chowder around. His mother sat in the front seat, gripping her handbag and being silently disapproving.

Tim squeezed Kate's hand to get her attention, and when she turned to look at him, he smiled at her and then made a silly face. She grinned back at him, squeezing his hand as well, and then adjusted her sling again. She had changed for dinner into a pair of khaki pants and a button-down green top, and her hair was down and gently curling around her ears and neck.

Tim reached over and laid a gentle hand on her right shoulder. "Need me to adjust the straps again?"

"Please," she said gratefully, turning so he could reach it. "It feels like it's digging into my shoulder."

He adjusted slightly, then a little more, and an expression of relief crossed her face. "Thank you," she said softly.

"We saw you on the news," Tim's father offered. "Sounded pretty amazing, what you did."

Kate blushed slightly. "I didn't really do anything, Mr. McGee," she demurred, "except move fast enough that I didn't get my head blown off."

"Jack," he corrected her. "And they said on the news you took a bullet for your boss. That's something."

"I'm just glad we all made it off that rooftop alive," Kate declared.

"Me, too," Tim agreed, squeezing her hand again.

The restaurant was nearly empty, so the group got a good table, and Jack advised Kate to order the clam chowder. "It's excellent."

Kate flushed slightly. "I'm allergic to shellfish," she confessed. "But I'll take your word for it."

Linda McGee sniffed slightly, and Tim slapped his menu down on the table. "That's it," he said in a low, commanding voice Kate had never heard him use before. "If you can't be nice, Mother, then Kate and I will find somewhere else to go have dinner."

There was a long silence, and then his mother seemed to deflate just a bit in her chair. "I apologize," she said softly, then glanced at Kate. "To both of you."

"Apology accepted," Tim replied. "Kate, they do a really excellent plank-grilled salmon here, too."

"I love salmon," Kate replied, looking down the menu.

Tim's parents both had the chowder for their meal; Tim and Kate both had the salmon, which was just as excellent as Tim had predicted. When they were through eating, Jack suggested a stroll around the historic downtown area. Tim glanced at Kate with a raised eyebrow; she shrugged. "Sure, Dad," Tim said, "that sounds like fun."

"Could you at least try not to sound like you're in pain when you say things like that?" his father answered.

The walk turned out to be quite pleasant; the weather was lovely, and the street charming. Tim held Kate's hand as they walked, dropping them farther and farther back behind his parents. Finally, they passed the mouth of a small alley between two old houses, and Tim ducked them both into the alley, backing Kate up against the clapboarded wall and kissing her warmly. "Thank you for putting up with my family," he said softly, bending down to nuzzle behind her ear.

"You're welcome," she replied, smiling softly and leaning to kiss him again. "I actually like your dad."

"My dad's pretty cool," Tim agreed. "My mom is, too, if she'll ever get over this afternoon."

Kate chuckled. "I'm not sure _I'm_ over this afternoon," she admitted. "It was pretty embarrassing."

"And not just for you," he agreed. Then he kissed her again. "Have I mentioned," he said, pausing to do it again, "that I really like kissing you?"

"Not in so many words, but the message got across," she replied, grinning as he did it again.

Linda McGee looked behind her to make a comment to Tim and paused in her stride when she realized he wasn't there. "Jack? Where did they go?"

Jack looked around, saw the dark mouth of the alley they had just passed, and grinned. "They're having a little alone time," he replied. "Let's sit down and wait for them." He led her to a low stone wall nearby and sat, patting the stone for her to join him.

She sniffed as she sat down. "It's not proper," she said primly. "Young girls and young men oughtn't to behave in such a way."

"They're kids, Linda," Jack replied, a little exasperated. "Surely you remember how we were when we first started dating. Let's try not to be too hypocritical, hmm?"

She paused, biting her lip and remembering their courtship, and flushed slightly. "I have been, just a bit, haven't I?"

"Just a bit," he teased, grinning and wrapping his arm around her shoulders. "But they'll forgive you."

She sighed. "It's just different when it's your little boy. And walking in on them like that…"

"It's an embarrassing situation, all the way around," Jack agreed. "But try to remember she's just as embarrassed as you are, if not more. It's hard enough for a girl to get on with her mother-in-law without having something like that between you."

She stared at him in shock. "You don't think he's actually going to _marry_ her, do you?"

He grinned at her. "Pay attention to them, Linda. He looks at her the way I look at you. Don't you see it? Look, here they come."

She looked up in time to see Tim and Kate exit the dim alley, flushed and a little mussed. Kate reached up to straighten Tim's shirt collar, and he brushed her hair out of her face, and when he took her hand again, Linda saw it. "Oh, Jack," she said softly. "You're so right."

"Of course I am," he replied, grinning. "A father knows these things about his son."

They walked around downtown for a little while longer, chatting about things they saw there. When the streetlights came on, they headed back to the car and drove back to the house. Kate excused herself to go upstairs, and Tim studied his parents. "See?" he said, almost defiantly. "She's very nice."

"Yes, she is," Linda admitted. "Tim, I apologize. I overreacted."

He studied her. "Thank you," he said softly. He hugged her, shook his father's hand, and headed upstairs.

The door to the room he'd chosen for his own, which was right next door to the master suite, was wide open, but his things weren't in his room. He grinned and headed down to the other end of the hallway, where another door stood slightly ajar. He pushed it open and stepped inside, smiling at the sight of Kate sitting on the bed, rubbing lotion onto her bare legs. He pushed the door closed as he entered and turned the lock. "Alone at last."

"Well, would you look at that," she replied, deadpan.

Her sling was off, lying on the bedside table, and he came to sit next to her, tugging the collar of her shirt down to look at the bandage. "When do you have to get the stitches out?"

"I'm supposed to go get them checked on Monday," she said as he peeled the bandage up to look at the wound. "I'm gonna have a horrible scar."

He kissed the slightly damp flesh beside the wound, which did look like it was healing nicely. "That's okay," he said softly. "At least you're alive." He wrapped his arms around her gently, pulling her to him. "I don't know what I'd do if you'd died."

There didn't seem to be much she could say to that, so she simply rested there in his arms, listening to the steady beat of his heart. "I could get used to this," she finally murmured.

He smiled, kissing the top of her head. "I hope you do," he said softly. He rested his chin on her head, then said softly, "Can I ask you a question about Davenport?"

She sat very still for a long moment, then finally nodded slightly. "You can ask," she said. "I may not answer, but you can ask."

"I was wondering how you got away."

"Oh." Kate took a deep breath, then straightened and shrugged out of her shirt, reaching for her lotion again and beginning to apply it to her arms. For a few minutes, she simply worked the lotion into her skin, but her expression told Tim that she was deep in thought. "He brought down a new lamp," she finally said. "The first couple of days we were down there, we had a lamp, but the battery died the day he killed Gina, because we kept it turned on all the time. We were so scared," she explained. He nodded, then took the lotion from her and squirted some on his hands, rubbing them together and reaching out to work on her back, rubbing her skin soothingly.

She swallowed hard. "He finally brought down a new lamp," she began again, studying her hands. "And I think that's when I knew he wasn't ever going to let me go, and I was afraid he was getting ready to kill me, too. And I'd given up on ever being found. So after he went away again, I took the lamp and I started exploring the basement."

It was a deep room, she remembered, reaching quite a long way back beneath the house. She vaguely recalled someone saying in the courtroom that it had gone the entire length of the house, but she had no way of knowing if that was correct or not, because many of her memories of those days could not be trusted. "Down at the far end," she finally said, "I found a window that had been mostly painted over, but he did a crappy job of it, because I could see the daylight coming through the paint. It was over a workbench, so I climbed up to see if I could get the window open. I couldn't reach it, so I stacked some boxes up on the workbench and climbed up again. It seemed like it took hours, pulling and tugging on that window, before it finally opened enough for me to squeeze out of it." She laughed softly. "And what's funny is that if he hadn't been practically starving me, I never would have gotten through. But he didn't give me much to eat, and I'd been down there eight days, so I was just basically skin and bones. And as it was, I scraped all the hide off my back wiggling out of there."

"Lie down," he murmured, and she did, giving him better access to her back. He unhooked her bra and continued massaging her back, working out the tension knots he could feel there.

"So I got out," she said. "And there I am, standing in his back yard, stark naked and filthy with no idea where I was. So I just started walking. About three houses away, there was a woman in her back yard hanging out her laundry on the clothesline, and I went up to her and asked her if I could please use her phone to call my parents so they could come and get me." She sighed. "She took one look at me and just about fell apart; she'd seen my picture on the news. Knew exactly who I was. She wrapped me in a sheet, took me inside and called 911. The police came and I took them back to the house, showed them the basement window I'd crawled out of. They raided the house and found Gina and Nikki's bodies in the basement, and of course our fingerprints and blood all over the place." She shrugged slightly. "Then they took me to the hospital, and my parents came to get me from there, and I went home."

He leaned down and kissed her between her shoulder blades. "That's an amazing story, you know," he said softly. "There's not a lot of kids who would be able to pull off something like that after everything you'd been through."

She laughed softly, without humor. "That's what everyone kept saying," she said. "I just kept thinking, why didn't I do that before the first lamp burned out, when all three of us could have gotten away?"

The guilt in her voice was thick and heavy, and he stretched out on the bed next to her, pulling her into his arms. "You were a scared kid," he said softly. "You did the best you could do; you survived."

She nodded. "I know. And that's what everyone said. But everyone else didn't have the dreams about them. Every night for months, I dreamed of them, asking me why I didn't think about escaping before they were killed; why I didn't save them, too." She shook her head. "That's why I ended up trying to kill myself. I couldn't deal with the guilt."

He stroked her hair back. "Does it still bother you?"

"Sometimes," she admitted. "Mostly when we have cases involving kids. Those are the nights when I still have the dreams. But mostly, now, I'm okay. I've made my peace."

He kissed her forehead. "And now we're locking the other one up."

Kate nodded. "He's going down for this," she said. "I know he was involved; I never told anyone what he said."

"What he said?"

She swallowed hard. "He said I tasted like cotton candy." Tim blinked. She'd said that before.

"Davenport?"

She nodded. "He said I tasted sweet like cotton candy." She shuddered softly. "I've never been able to touch the stuff since."


	6. Chapter 6

"I'm not surprised," Tim replied, running a soothing hand down her arm. "Is there…" He paused, searching for words, and then continued tentatively. "Is there anything that… that I shouldn't…?"

Understanding what he was asking, Kate felt her chest swell with appreciation. He wanted to make sure that he didn't accidentally do something that would bring up her traumatic memories. "You really are a good guy, Tim," she said softly, running a hand down his torso. "And I'm mostly okay, but don't ever, _ever_ ask to tie me up or anything like that. Blindfolds, silk scarves, I don't do that. Ever."

"Completely understandable," he said gently. "No bondage games. I have to admit," he added, grinning, "they're not really my thing anyway. I played along with Abby, because it's what she wanted, but I just… it's not my thing."

She grinned. "Abby's great, and I love her, but she's a little out there."

"A little?" Tim repeated, incredulous. "Have you _seen_ her apartment?"

Kate laughed, rolling on top of him and sitting up to pull on the hem of his shirt. "I don't really want to talk about Abby right now," she confessed.

"Me, neither." Tim sat up and pulled his shirt off, kissing her warmly and cupping her breasts with his hands. "God, I love touching you. I don't think I'll ever get enough of touching you."

She put her own hands over his own. "I love the way you touch me," she confessed, smiling slightly. "You feel good."

He leaned forward to kiss her pulse point. "So do you," he said softly. He kissed her again, making her shiver. "I want to make love to you," he whispered. "All night long."

"Yes," she whispered back,

They lay together in the aftermath, limbs tangled, until the ocean breeze across their sweaty bodies grew too cool. Then Tim helped her up and pulled the blankets back, and they slipped between the clean sheets together. He tugged the sheet back up over them and pulled her into his arms again. She rested her head on his shoulder and her left hand on his chest, playing idly with his sparse chest hair.

"Is this real?" she finally whispered. "Or when we go back to D.C. is this all going to vanish?"

"It's real if you want it to be real," he whispered back. He laid his hand on hers. "I've wanted you for a long time, Kate."

"How long?"

He laughed softly. "Since the first day I met you," he confessed. "You were so cool, and so together, and I wanted to impress you and I felt like a complete idiot the whole time."

She smiled, leaning forward to press a kiss to his pectoral. "I had no idea."

"I didn't want you to know," he explained. "I'd have been too embarrassed if you made fun of me."

"I would never!" she exclaimed, raising up on one elbow to look him full in the face. "Tim, come on!"

"No, no, I know that now." He pulled her back down to pillow her head on his shoulder again. "I know that. But I didn't know you well enough back then, and you guys _did_ make fun of me a lot. In my experience, hot girls that like to make fun of me don't usually stop when they find out I like them."

She looked up at him, studying his face. "I never meant to hurt your feelings," she said softly.

"I know," he replied, smiling and stroking her cheek. "It's okay. The hot sex kind of makes up for it."

She whacked him gently. "Creep."

He laughed, taking her hand in his again. "Yeah, yeah. Go to sleep."

She snuggled against him then and closed her eyes. As her breathing evened out, he heard her softly murmur, "I want it to be real."

With a smile on his face, he kissed her hair one last time and went to sleep as well.

Gibbs called the next afternoon, as the four of them were in the middle of a game of Monopoly. _"You back in town yet?"_

"No," Kate said into her cell phone. "We're still in Nantucket. We'll be back Monday morning."

"_Why are you still in Nantucket?"_

"Tim's parents came in," Kate explained. "We're hanging out with them." She watched with narrow eyes as Jack McGee moved his metal playing piece around the board, and missed Gibbs's next comment. "Ha! Park Place! You owe me _so_ much money. What was that, Gibbs?"

Gibbs paused. _"Am I interrupting something?"_

"Just me, kicking butt at Monopoly. What did you say? I missed it."

"_I said you're still on medical leave,"_ he replied.

"So was Tony when he had the plague," Kate pointed out. "And he came back a week early. Don't coddle me, Gibbs. I'm not some delicate flower. Remember who you're talking to."

"_And you've been through a lot the last two weeks,"_ he began, but she cut him off impatiently.

"None of which I want to sit around in my apartment for another week or two brooding about, thank you. I'll see you Monday morning." She shut her cell phone and tossed it toward the couch. A moment later, Tim's phone rang. She pointed a finger at him. "Do not answer that."

"Kate, I have to answer it," he replied reasonably. "It's Gibbs."

"Give it to me."

"No." He opened the phone. "Yeah, Boss?"

"_I want her taking extra time off."_

"Boss, you're really gonna have to take that up with her."

"_When did my orders turn into requests? Your job is to do what I tell you, right? Well, I'm telling you to make sure she takes extra time off. Do whatever you have to do." _

Tim blinked, and slowly started to grin. "I'll do what I can, Boss, but you know how she is."

"_No excuses,"_ Gibbs snapped. _"Just take care of her."_ He hung up.

Tim closed the phone, grinning at Kate. "I'm under orders to make sure you take extra time off."

Kate raised an eyebrow. "You're kidding."

Tim shook his head. "Tony's gonna blow a gasket. We've just been _ordered_ to take vacation."

Kate laughed. "Sometimes it's so easy, I'm ashamed of myself." She pointed at Jack. "Park Place with three houses. That's eleven hundred bucks. Pony up."

Jack cast a gimlet eye at Tim. "Son, I'm afraid I don't like your girlfriend very much."

Tim laughed. "Don't worry. We'll play Risk next. She sucks at that."

Kate insisted on making dinner that night; Tim took her to the grocery store for supplies to make manicotti, and she stood in the kitchen cooking while Tim and Jack went outside and played with Tony. Linda wandered into the kitchen and watched as Kate made tomato sauce from scratch.

"Where on earth did you learn to do that?"

Kate smiled slightly. "One of my best friends when I was a kid had an Italian mother. Mrs. Torrio insisted every girl needed to know how to make pasta and tomato sauce from scratch, or we'd never catch a husband."

Linda laughed softly. "My mother's magical husband-catcher was clam chowder, but she was a Yankee from Maine, so that was understandable. Where did you grow up, dear?"

"Indianapolis," Kate replied. "I went to college in California, though – I graduated from USC."

"So far from home!" Linda observed. "Did you like it?"

"I did," Kate replied. "It was nice to be away, around people that didn't know me. I'm sure Tim told you about my little problem this week."

"Not very much. He said you were being stalked, but not much else."

Kate nodded, mashing another tomato into her mixing bowl. "I was abducted when I was a kid," she explained, "along with two of my friends. I survived; they didn't. One of the men was arrested, convicted and executed. The other one caught up with me when they put me on the news last week."

"Oh, Kate," Linda breathed. "You poor thing."

Kate smiled slightly. "Well, Gibbs and Tony got him yesterday," she said in the lightest tone of voice she could manage, "so it's over now. Finally."

Linda patted her shoulder awkwardly and changed the subject. "Would you like me to make the salad?"

"If you want to," Kate replied. She smiled slightly, grateful that Linda appeared to be getting over their horrible introduction yesterday.

On Sunday morning they all got up and went to church together. Kate was a little uncomfortable with the Presbyterian church that the McGees preferred, but she said nothing, trusting God to be patient until she could make it to Mass next Sunday.

There was fellowship after the church service in a sterile little hall behind the building where, according to the labels on the tall cabinets in the corner, Boy Scout Troop 432 and Girl Scout Troop 127 met at differing times during the week. While Linda and Jack socialized, Kate pulled Tim over into a corner by the cabinets and gave him her best Little Girl eyes. She watched him melt and then sprung her idea on him. "Do you think maybe we could go see my family?"

"In Indianapolis?" She nodded, keeping those huge, hopeful eyes trained on him shamelessly. He tried to look away from them but found himself mesmerized. "You realize when you look at me like that, it's impossible for me to say 'no' to you, right?"

"That's pretty much the plan," she replied, never losing the expression for even a moment.

He sighed, then leaned down and gave her a quick peck on the lips. "Stop looking at me like that. Yes, you can have a pony. When do you want to leave?"

She squealed softly and threw her arms around his neck. "Can we go this afternoon?"

"Of course." He hugged her tightly, smiling when the pastor approached them. He put his hand out. "Reverend Bolling."

"Timothy. Always nice to see you. Introduce me, won't you?"

"Reverend Bolling, this is my girlfriend, Kate Todd. Kate, Reverend Bolling."

She shook his hand, smiling warmly, and he studied her face. "Didn't I see you on the news recently?"

She nodded, repressing the urge to roll her eyes. "Yes, sir, that was me."

"Thank you," he said softly, "for everything you do to keep us all safe."

Kate blinked, then blushed deeply. "I didn't do all that much, honestly. Tim did more than I did, and all without managing to get shot in the process."

The Reverend patted her good shoulder. "Modesty becomes you, Ms. Todd." Then he smiled and walked away to mingle some more.

Kate sighed, sagging a little against Tim. "I'll be _really_ glad when that stops happening."

Tim grinned, squeezing her gently. "Come on; let's go get Mom and Dad and go to brunch before we get on the road."

Much to Kate's surprise, as they prepared to leave Nantucket, Tim's mother hugged her goodbye. "I'm sorry we got off to such a bad start, dear," she said, patting Kate's cheek familiarly. "I hope the next time we see each other it won't be under the same circumstances."

Kate smiled and hugged Linda back. "I'm sure it won't," she said, then was hugged by Jack as well before they left. The short drive across the island to the ferry was spent in silence, and Kate turned to look at Tim halfway across Nantucket Sound. "Your mom really turned around on me," she said thoughtfully.

"I told you once she got to know you, she'd like you." He smiled at her. "I hope your mom likes me."

Kate laughed. "Until she finds out you're a Protestant, she's going to love you. After she finds out you're a Protestant, she's going to have the priest over to bless the house."

Tim laughed. "I'm a Presbyterian, not a minion of Satan."

"You didn't get the memo? They're the same thing." Kate grinned.

The route Tim chose took them south again, through Philadelphia and then west. They traded off driving every few hours, and when they were both exhausted, they finally stopped for the night in Everett, Pennsylvania. Tim got them a room at a pet-friendly motel just off the Interstate and they ate at a nearby Denny's, too tired to worry about freshening up for anyplace nicer.

When they returned to their room, Tim sat on the end of the bed and watched Kate go through her usual evening routine at the vanity, taking her makeup off and applying cleanser and lotion. When she was finished, she turned back to the room and flushed slightly when she realized he'd been watching her. "Not very sexy," she said, embarrassed, and he chuckled, holding out a hand to her.

"Come here." She came, and he drew her into his lap, kissing her scrubbed-clean face. "You don't have to wear makeup all the time and have your hair done up fancy to be sexy to me," he said softly. "I think you're beautiful even without all that stuff."

"You're a sweetheart," she said, smiling at him. "How'd you get so good at this?"

He laughed, tugging gently on the messy ponytail she'd pulled her hair up into. "You can't tell anyone. It has to be our secret."

"Of course," she replied, intrigued. "Tell."

He grinned. "I went through romance novels like they were water in high school. Those really salacious bodice rippers. I didn't dare hide Playboys in my room like the other guys I knew, because I was too afraid my mom would find them when she was cleaning. It was the closest thing to porn that I dared to get, and the used bookstore not far from my house sold them for a dollar apiece."

She stared at him in shock, her eyes wide and her mouth open slightly. Then she whacked him on the shoulder. "You did not."

"I did," he insisted, laughing. "I swear I did. And I discovered a couple years into the habit that one thing about them was all the same – the way the hero treated the heroine. It occurred to me that if that many women were writing this stuff, and that many _more_ women were reading it, there must be something to it. So I started studying them."

"You have to be kidding."

He shook his head. "If I'm lying, I'm dying. I promise you. From the age of thirteen to about seventeen, I read every romance book I could get my hands on. That's how I learned how women like to be treated." He took her chin between his thumb and forefinger. "And I swear to God, Kate, if you tell _anyone…_"

"I won't tell anyone," she promised between giggles. "But Tim, really! Romance novels?"

He grinned, leaning forward to kiss her warmly. "They worked, though, didn't they?"

She pushed him backward and ground down on his hips. "I have to admit, they did." She leaned down and kissed him again. "And I think all that hard work deserves a reward, don't you?"

"Well, I did manage to get _you_," he pointed out. "So I think I can safely say it paid off."

"Well, here's a little something extra," she said. "Call it a positive-review bonus." She slithered down between his feet on the floor and grinned wickedly up at him, leaning forward to mouth the shape of him through his jeans. He groaned, leaning back on his elbows and watching her as she played. "I love that you read romance novels in high school," she said softly at one point, and he grinned.

"I can't tell you how pleased I am with my own foresight," he replied.

When it was over, she sagged into his arms and he rolled them both to the side, pulling the sheet up over them and holding her close. She laid her head on his shoulder and kissed his sweaty skin gently. "You're amazing," she whispered. "I honestly never knew you had it in you."

He laughed, soft and low. "I try to keep a low profile," he said with a confessional air. "Once word gets out, all the girls will want me. Then where will Tony be?'

Kate laughed as well, then yawned. They kissed again, warm and deep and slow, and then she settled her head on his shoulder again, her eyes fluttering closed and her breathing evening out.

He lay there for a long time, watching her sleep, and wondering whether it was too early in their relationship to tell her how much he loved her. At last, he slept as well, and dreamed of the laughter of children.


	7. Chapter 7

When the phone rang around six o'clock on Monday evening, Rachel Todd had her hands in a bowl of ground beef, preparing a meat loaf for supper. She grumbled at first, until she checked the caller ID box, and then she wiped her hands quickly on a dishrag and grabbed the handset. "Katie!"

"_Hey, Mom!" _her youngest daughter greeted her in an unusually whimsical tone._ "What's shaking?"_

"Well, it's six o'clock, Katie. What am I always doing at six o'clock?"

"_Making dinner?"_ Kate hazarded.

"Very good! Gold star for you!"

"_Yay for me,"_ Kate replied, giggling. _"Hey, what are you making?"_

"Meat loaf," Rachel replied. "And mashed potatoes, and probably Brussels sprouts."

"_Hey, can you fix green peas instead of Brussels sprouts? I hate Brussels sprouts."_

"Of course I can," Rachel replied automatically, and then stopped herself. "Why do you care what vegetable I serve with supper tonight?"

Kate's giggles became even more pronounced. _"Look out the window, Mom."_

Rachel turned, suspicion dawning in her mind, and squealed in excitement when she saw Kate peering in the window, grinning back at her. She hung up the phone immediately and hurried around the counter to unlock the back door. "You naughty thing, sneaking up on me like that!" Rachel exclaimed, drawing Kate into a bear hug. "What are you doing here?"

"Gibbs gave me mandatory vacation time after he caught Davenport," Kate reported, "and he told Tim to make sure I took it. So I conned Tim into driving me out here." She stepped to the side, took Tim's hand, and drew him in off the back stoop. "Mom, this is Tim McGee. Tim, this is my mom, Rachel."

"A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Todd." Tim held out his hand.

Rachel Todd, slightly shorter than her daughter and looking exactly like her, pushed past his hand and wrapped him in a hug. "We don't shake hands with handsome men in this house," she announced. "Now come and sit down and tell me everything."

They were hustled to the kitchen table and Kate retrieved sodas from the refrigerator before pausing. "Where's Daddy?"

"He's over at Pete's. They've got a new rusty hulk they're restoring. He promised to be home by suppertime."

Kate rolled her eyes as she sat down. "I'm sure Gloria's pleased about that."

"She's furious," Rachel replied, grinning. "It suits her. Now start talking."

"Pete's my oldest brother," Kate explained to Tim. "Gloria's his wife. We hate her. Anyway." She sat back in her chair and launched into an explanation of what had happened with Davenport, beginning with the first email and going forward from there. She explained about the ruse and their hideout in Nantucket, and finished off with, "and right after Gibbs called to let us know he'd caught him, Tim's parents showed up. So we stayed and spent the weekend with them. Then when Gibbs put me on forced vacation, I thought about coming out here. So here we are."

"And I," declared Rachel, who was now sitting at the table with them, "am glad for it. Thank you for bringing her, Tim." She reached out and patted his hand warmly. "So, how long have you two been seeing each other?"

Tim spluttered, but Kate rolled her eyes. "Not quite a week, Mom. Cut him some slack."

Just then, the front door of the house opened and a man's voice boomed out. "Rachel? We got company?"

"In the kitchen, Larry." Rachel smiled and patted Tim's hand again. "Don't you worry about a thing. Katie's dad's just going to _love_ you."

A moment later, a hugely burly man appeared in the kitchen doorway. His eyes lit up when they landed on his daughter's face. "Katie!"

"Hi, Daddy." Kate stood and allowed herself to be swallowed up in a bear hug. "How are you?"

"Exhausted. How are you? Mom said you were having some trouble."

"It's all been handled. I'll tell you the whole ugly story later. Daddy, this is Tim McGee. Tim, this is my dad, Larry."

Tim stood and offered his hand again, and found it shaken enthusiastically. "Good to meet you, boy," Larry Todd greeted him. "Any friend of Katie's is always welcome here. How long are you staying?"

"A few days," Kate replied. "I'd like to be back to work on Monday."

"How's the arm?" He pulled the neck of Kate's tee shirt to the side, seeing the bandage.

"It's better," Kate said. She shrugged carefully out of her shirt and peeled the bandage to the side, letting him see the wound. "I was supposed to go get it checked out today, and possibly get the stitches out, but of course we were on the road, so I thought I'd go see Dr. Mike tomorrow."

"Good idea. You let your brother take a look at that; I want him to be sure there's nothing wrong with it." Larry took the bandage from her and pressed it gently back into place, then helped her back on with her shirt. Then he drew her into another, more gentle hug. "You need to be more careful," he said in a hoarse voice. "I can't imagine losing you, Punkin."

Kate sniffled and gave her father a watery smile. "I'm harder to get rid of than you'd think, Daddy."

The four of them sat around the kitchen table and Kate told her story again. By the time she was done, supper was ready, and after they ate, Rachel hustled them off to bed. "You must be exhausted," she said, herding them up the stairs like baby chicks. "Get some sleep and we'll spend tomorrow catching up."

A moment later, they found themselves staring at one another, standing just inside the doorway of Kate's childhood bedroom. There was utter silence for a moment, and then suddenly Kate smiled. "My parents absolutely adore you," she said firmly.

"They do?" Tim asked. "How can you tell? You haven't even had a chance to be around them without me there."

Kate grinned. "My mother just put us both in my bedroom. If she didn't love you already, you'd be in the downstairs guest room, with my father and his gun cabinet between us."

Tim looked around the room. "You know, if I was picking your bedroom out of a lineup, never in a million years would I pick this room."

Kate grinned. "It's horrible, isn't it?"

It was, in fact, very pink and very purple, with a frightening amount of lace thrown in. Tim looked around. "I'm not sure I can sleep in this. I may have nightmares."

Kate shoved his shoulder gently. "You'll survive."

"Please tell me your mother did this over your strenuous objections."

"Sorry," Kate replied, dragging her suitcase over by the closet door. "No can do. I did this to myself in the tenth grade."

"For God's sake, _why_?"

Kate shrugged, looking around. "When I was little, it was yellow and white." She wandered over to sit on the edge of the bed, looking around. "When I was twelve, I made some money cutting lawns and I bought black paint with it. From the time I was twelve until I got out of the psych ward, the walls were black and the curtains and everything were really dark blue." She paused and gave him a tight smile. "Wait till you see the pictures of me from back then. I could have given Abby a run for her money." She shook her head. "When I got out of the hospital and came home, walking in here was like walking back into that basement. I couldn't deal with it. I slept downstairs for a month until we could repaint and redecorate."

He moved to her side, sitting down and wrapping his arms around her. "Do you need to, maybe, talk to somebody about all this?" he asked tentatively, not wanting to offend her, but concerned.

She sighed, leaning against him. "Probably." She looked up at him. "That's… I kind of had an ulterior motive to coming here."

He laughed softly. "You've got somebody here you can talk to?"

Kate nodded. "My therapist. I called her Saturday while you were outside with your parents; she said she can see me tomorrow afternoon."

"Good. So in the morning you'll go see your doctor about your stitches, and in the afternoon you'll go see your other doctor about your head. And then tomorrow night you'll tell me where the best place is to take you out to a really fancy dinner."

Smiling, she reached up to kiss him. "You really studied those romance novels hard, didn't you?"

"Am I getting a passing grade on the final?"

Her hands slipped under the tail of his shirt. "I think you're going straight to the head of the class."

The next morning, he drove her into the city to Community Hospital, where she strolled in like she owned the place and asked the receptionist for directions to the office of the head of cardiothoracic surgery.

"Do you have an appointment?" the receptionist asked.

"No," Kate replied. "I don't need one. Just tell me where his office is."

"Ma'am, you have to have an appointment," the receptionist began, and Kate waved a negligent hand.

"Forget it. I'll find it myself." She turned and walked away, Tim hurrying to follow. A sign on a wall gave them directions to the surgical wing, and Kate turned in that direction. "Ridiculous, really," she was muttering to herself. "Can't even give someone directions when you ask them to." Sensing her irritation, Tim wisely said nothing.

They climbed off the elevator on the fifth floor and Kate strolled up to the nearest nurses' station. "Excuse me," she said politely to the woman behind the counter. "Can you please tell me where I can find –"

"Katie?"

A man's voice interrupted her, and Kate turned, grinning widely. "Mike!"

"Katie! What are you doing here?" The man who approached them was tall, lanky, and dark-haired, and followed by a group of younger, nervous-looking people in scrubs. Kate hurried to his side and was enveloped in a huge bear hug.

"I came to see you," she said when he let her go, grinning widely. "I need medical attention."

"Psychiatric's on the eighth floor," he began, but she whacked him on the arm.

"Stop being a jerk. I'm serious. I've been shot."

One of the scrub-clad young women gasped and all of them got expressions of consternation. Mike just laughed. "So I heard. You just can't keep out of trouble, can you?"

"Nope." She stepped back. "So, you wanna give me a checkup or what?"

He rolled his eyes. "Do I look like a doctor to you?"

"No," she said, her eyes twinkling merrily. "You look like an extra from _Grey's Anatomy_, only not nearly as good looking."

Laughing, he wrapped his arm around her shoulder. "Come on; there's an empty exam room right over here."

The group of them piled into the exam room. Tim helped Kate up onto the table while Mike pulled on a pair of rubber gloves. "These are my interns, by the way," he said as Kate unbuttoned her shirt. "Apparently this is a teaching hospital, so I'm required to warp young minds."

"Oh, you poor kids," Kate replied, looking sympathetically at the group of interns. Then she winked at Mike. "Since we're doing introductions, Tim McGee. Tim, my brother Mike."

"So I gathered," Tim replied dryly. He watched as Mike removed the bandage with a calm, professional touch and winced at the sight of her shoulder.

"Damn, Katie. That must hurt like hell."

"It's better now than it was two weeks ago," Kate replied. "Can you take the stitches out?"

"Are you gonna do anything stupid with this arm if I do?"

"Depends on what you consider stupid," Kate replied, grinning. "I'm not out practicing my free throws, but there is a little one-on-one being played."

Tim felt his face turn beet red as Mike raised an appraising eye to him. "Have you mentioned to him that I know a hundred and seventy-four ways to stop a human heart without leaving any forensic evidence?"

"No, but I showed him Daddy's gun cabinet." The siblings shared a laugh and then Mike got down to business, carefully removing the sutures and examining the wound.

"You're gonna have a nasty scar, Bear," he said softly. Then he walked around and examined the exit wound, giving the interns a chance to look at the front.

"Ma'am?" one of the interns asked. "Do you mind if I ask how you got this wound?"

"I was shot by a sniper two weeks ago," Kate replied.

"Oh, yeah!" another one exclaimed. "I saw you on the news! You're that Fed!"

Kate rolled her eyes. Mike looked up from his examination of her back. "Her name is Ms. Todd," he snapped. "She's not 'that Fed.' We don't ever refer to patients by anything other than their name."

"Not to their faces, anyway," Kate added, smiling.

Mike placed a new bandage on the front of Kate's shoulder, giving the interns a chance to check out the back. Then he bandaged the back and helped her back into her shirt. "Are you taking any pain meds?"

"Tylenol when I have to," she replied. "Otherwise, no. The surgeon in D.C. gave me Percodan, but I never filled the script."

"Why do you do this to yourself?"

"Because narcotics give me nightmares," Kate replied flatly.

Mike's expression turned understanding. "And with the other situation…" He nodded when she looked at him sharply. "Yeah, Mom told me what was going on. I assume since you're here everything's been worked out?"

Kate's eyes flicked to the group of interns, then back to Mike. "Yeah. It's handled."

"Good." He stepped forward and hugged her gently. "Love you, Bear," he whispered in her ear. Then, as he stepped away, he spoke in a normal tone again. "I'll come see you tonight."

"Do that," Kate replied. "I'll tell Mom to expect you for dinner."

That afternoon, Kate spent an hour in her therapist's office, rehashing old feelings that had been brought to the forefront by the emotional attacks from James Davenport. She felt better for being able to get out everything she was feeling with someone who was already familiar with her situation, and was quite ready to take on the world again with both hands until the doctor leaned back in her chair and said, "So, tell me about Tim."

"What about him? He's really great." Kate smiled. "He read romance novels as a teenager to try and learn how women want to be treated."

The therapist pinned Kate with a gimlet eye. "And does he like being used as a substitute for you actually feeling what you're going through?"

Kate stared. "What?"

"I asked how he likes you using him to shield yourself from the pain of your recent experiences."

"I am not!" Kate exclaimed.

"No? When did you first realize you were attracted to him?"

Kate considered it. "I first _realized_ it when he was sitting in my apartment with me," she said slowly. "Because he was being so sweet. But I was wondering why I never noticed it before, and I realized that I _did_ notice it before, I just ignored it. Because of Gibbs and his stupid Rule Twelve." She shifted on the couch, considering. "No. I'm not using him to hide from my feelings. I really likehim, Donna. And he likes me."

"How does he react when you break down?"

Kate smiled softly. "He holds me while I cry," she said, "and he tells me everything's gonna be okay. And he makes me believe it."

"When you get upset or you start to feel depressed, do you go to him to make yourself feel better?"

"No," Kate said definitely. "I've been keeping up my journaling and I get out and run or play with the dog. That's not what Tim's for."

"Well, what _is_ Tim for?"

"Tim is…" Kate paused, searching for words. "Tim is amazing. He listens when I need to talk, and he doesn't judge me or what I've been through. He's always there if I need him. We've been friends since he joined the team, and we've hung out and done things together before now." She shook her head. "That's not what Tim's about, Donna. He… I think he loves me. And I think maybe I love him. I just didn't realize it before now."

Donna nodded, and then smiled. "That's what I was hoping you'd say."

"Really?" Looking up at her doctor, Kate began to smile too.

"Really." Donna leaned forward. "How do your parents feel about him?"

"Mom adores him already," Kate said. "Daddy hasn't said anything yet, but that's just how Daddy is; he doesn't say. He shows. We're here probably until Friday, and I'm almost sure he'll ask Tim to go fishing with him sometime this week."

The clock on the wall chimed the hour, and Kate looked up at it with an expression of consternation. "Already?"

"Already." Donna stood and shook Kate's hand firmly. "I'll expect your call at the regular time next week."

Kate smiled. "Thanks for seeing me, Donna."

"Kate, you know I'll clear my schedule for you any time you're in town." She reached out and gave the younger woman an impulsive hug. "Take care of yourself."

The rest of the week passed quickly, and on Friday morning, Kate and Tim packed their car to head back to Washington. Kate's mother hugged them both tightly in the driveway, and Kate's father hugged her and shook hands firmly with Tim. "Drive carefully," he admonished.

"We will," Kate assured him. "Tim's a very good driver. Not like Tony," she added with a grin.

"Good," Larry said. Then he turned to Tim and pointed a finger at him. "You take good care of my little girl."

"I will," Tim replied with a slight smile. "I promise."

Kate's parents stood by the driveway and waved until they were no longer visible in the rearview mirror, and then Kate leaned back in the passenger seat and sighed softly. "It's definitely going to be good to get back to work," she said, looking out the window. "I've enjoyed being off, but I'm starting to get antsy."

Tim laughed softly. "I understand completely." He paused for a moment and then said, "Gibbs called yesterday."

"He did?" Kate turned to look at him. "What did he say?"

"Davenport confessed. He's pleading guilty."

There was a very long silence in the car as all the air seemed to go out of Kate for a moment. Once she had her breath back, she asked, "What charges?"

"Harassment, stalking, threatening a Federal agent, breaking and entering, destruction of property, three counts each of kidnapping, child abuse, rape, and gross sexual imposition of a minor under fifteen, and two counts of accessory to murder."

"Not homicide?"

Tim shook his head. "He maintains that Neil is the one who did the actual murders, but he was willing to plead guilty to accessory, and the prosecutor took it because it would be impossible to prove which one of them actually did it."

Kate swallowed hard and nodded. "And my testimony would be worthless, because I didn't even know there were two of them until Abby found out."

Tim nodded. "If it helps at all," he said gently, "even if he only gets the minimum sentence for each crime, he'll still be in his nineties when he gets out of prison."

Kate's eyes flashed. "Then I'll just have to make sure he doesn't get the minimum," she said flatly. "When is his sentencing hearing?"

"Monday."

"I want to be there."


	8. Chapter 8

When Kate walked into the Federal courthouse on Monday morning, she flashed her badge to get around the metal detectors and started down the hall with her head high. The reassuring weight of her gun on her hip kept her grounded and the feel of the folded paper in her pocket kept her calm. She and Tim had arrived back in Washington late Saturday and he had been understanding when she asked for the rest of the weekend alone to gather her thoughts. She'd spent most of Sunday doing laundry and working out what she wanted to say at the hearing. Now she knew.

She had been given permission to speak at Neil Davenport's sentencing hearing, but had chosen not to, feeling that she'd had her say when she stood up in the witness stand and told the jury that he was the man who'd hurt her and killed her friends. Now, though, she had the words and she was going to use them.

When she approached the courtroom, however, she was nearly undone by the sight that greeted her. There, waiting outside the door in their best court clothes, waited Gibbs, Tony, McGee, and even Abby and Ducky. "What are you all doing here?" she asked as she approached them.

"You didn't think we were going to leave you to face this alone, Caitlin, did you?" Ducky asked, a disappointed expression on his face. "I thought you knew us better than that."

"It was the Probie's idea," Tony added, and Kate felt herself well up with tears. "He said he was coming down and we all decided to come with him."

She turned her shining eyes on Tim, who was doing his best to look self-deprecating, and slowly began to smile. "You did that for me?"

Tim shrugged. "I didn't think you should be alone."

In three steps she was in his arms, kissing him soundly. Behind her, she heard Abby gasp in surprise, and Tony mutter, "Man, I should've just told her it was my idea," followed by the sound of Gibbs smacking him on the head. When she released him, she looked up into his eyes and smiled.

"Thank you, Tim," she whispered.

"You're welcome," he replied, his voice equally soft, and reached up to brush her hair back behind her ear. "You realize you just outed us to the whole team."

"Saves us the trouble of telling them one at a time," she replied, then turned with his hand in hers to face them, a defiant expression on her face. "Problems?"

She was staring directly at Gibbs when she said the word, and he simply shook his head, giving her just the slightest quirk of his mouth. She smiled back, confident that he would not give her too much of a hard time over it. Then she took a deep breath and took Tim's hand in hers. "All right, then," she said softly. "Let's do this thing."

They trooped into the courtroom together and took seats near the front, the group following Kate's lead. There was no sign of Davenport in the room, for which Kate was grateful, and she sat very close to Tim, letting his strength support her when her own was not enough. She closed her eyes, whispered a quick prayer for peace, and waited.

Very soon, Davenport was led into the room in shackles, his public defender following behind. They were both seated across the courtroom from the team, and Kate kept her gaze carefully away from him at all times.

Some minutes later, the bailiff called on them all to rise, and the judge entered the room, taking his seat at the bench and allowing them to sit. The case was read, and the judge spent a moment looking over the documents before speaking. "Very well," he said firmly. "James Lee Davenport, you have pled guilty to all the charges which have been read. Is this in fact your plea?"

"Yes, sir."

"Have you been coerced or threatened or otherwise forced to make this plea?"

"No, sir."

"And are you certain that this is the plea you wish to enter to all of these crimes?"

"Yes, sir."

"Very well." The judge looked down at the papers again, then looked up. "Before I pronounce sentence, is there anyone who wishes to speak on behalf of Mr. Davenport?"

There was a long silence in the room; no one so much as moved. The judge nodded. "And on behalf of the victims?"

Kate stood. "I do."

"And your name?"

"Caitlin Todd," Kate replied.

There was a murmur in the courtroom as all those present who were familiar with the case recognized her name. The judge studied her for a moment, then pointed at the podium. "You may speak, Ms. Todd."

"Thank you, Your Honor." Kate stepped forward, pulling the small folded piece of paper out of her pocket, and stepped up to the podium microphone, unfolding it and smoothing it out with trembling hands.

"I spent the better part of yesterday trying to work out what I wanted to say," she began. Her voice was soft but firm, and carried through the room with the help of the mic. "I wrote out a number of different speeches, all very emotional, to ask you to assign the maximum sentence possible for every one of this man's crimes. And none of those speeches ever came to fruition. I just… couldn't get the words out." She paused, swallowed hard, and continued. "So instead of giving you all my impassioned but logical reasons why this man should never see the light of day again, I'm going to tell you a story."

Kate paused and swallowed hard again, glancing to the side and taking a small comfort in the sight of her friends who were there for her, then she faced the judge again, meeting his eyes. "On September 18, 1984, I turned eleven years old. I had a sleepover party for my birthday, and my best friends Nikki and Gina came over with their pajamas and their stuffed animals. We holed up in my bedroom, fighting off my pesky older brothers and making fun of my annoying older sister, until way past our bedtime. We had cake and Coke and pizza and a scary movie that my mother let us rent against her better judgment.

"We watched that scary movie, and then we couldn't sleep, because we were afraid the zombies would come in and get us, so we sat up with the lights on until one o'clock in the morning, being silly and having fun. Being little girls. Until the French doors in my room opened up and something much nastier than a zombie came in and got us."

She paused then, taking a deep breath, and glanced over at Davenport, who was very pointedly looking away from her. Then she looked back at the judge. "I like to think I've taken something bigger out of what happened to me. I like to think that I've done my part to make sure that, as far as I am capable, I will never see another child go through what I went through. That as long as I am able, as long as I have two good hands and a gun, no one will ever take a child that I am capable of defending and inflict the kind of pain that Neil and James Davenport inflicted on me. But Gina and Nikki never got that chance, because Gina and Nikki died. And I don't know – and I also don't care – if this man has asked for clemency because of his guilty plea, but I do know what I just spent the last three weeks doing."

Kate swallowed against the slightly bitter taste of her next words. "Three weeks ago, I was shot by a terrorist. My face got plastered all over the news afterward, and James Davenport saw me and remembered me, and looked me up. And he started sending me reminders of that nightmare. He sent me emails, he sent me flowers, and he sent me the clothes that my friends and I were wearing when he took us out of my bedroom and locked us in the trunk of his car. He followed me to a ceremony where I was given a medal by the President for almost dying in the line of duty, and because I was injured and couldn't protect myself, I had to go into hiding until he was caught. And when he was caught, he was _inside my home._ That doesn't speak to me of someone who is sorry for what he did twenty years ago. That speaks to me of someone who was proud of it, and wanted to do it again. Who enjoyed it."

She reached up and brushed away a tear that had escaped before finishing. "Last week, after he was caught, I went home to visit my family. And while I was there, I went to the cemetery and visited my friends. And I told them what had happened, and I told them that I would do everything in my power to make sure that James Lee Davenport saw justice for what he and his brother did to them – to us. So I am asking you, Your Honor, to make sure that he does. Not for me; I've made my peace with what I've been through. I'm asking for Gina Torrio and Nikki Hampton, because they can't ask for themselves any more."

In the total silence that followed, Kate folded up her paper, slipped it back into her pocket, and returned to her seat. Tim took her hand, squeezing it firmly, and she squeezed back, swallowing hard against the tears that were swimming in her eyes.

The judge spoke. "Does anyone else wish to speak?"

There was no one in the courtroom who had any intention of following that speech, and after a moment of silence, the judge spoke. "Very well," he said finally. "Mr. Davenport, please stand up." Davenport did, and the judge continued. "Upon weighing the preponderance of the evidence, judging against the fact that you have shown no remorse for your crimes, and being not a little swayed by the very passionate speech of your last living victim, I hereby sentence you to the maximum penalty allowable by law for each of your crimes. Each sentence is to run consecutively and I further rule that you are not to be eligible for parole under any circumstances." He paused, and then added, "and may God have mercy on your soul."

The gavel banged then, and everyone stood as the judge made his way out of the courtroom. Davenport was dragged out by his guards, and the rest of the audience began to file out.

In the hallway, reporters surged toward the team, which almost instinctively moved to circle Kate and keep her protected. For every shouted question, Gibbs growled "no comment," and Kate ignored them all, refusing to make eye contact. They finally piled into an elevator together and Gibbs shut the doors on the crowd, then turned to her.

"You okay, Kate?"

"I'm okay," she replied, leaning against Tim. "A little drained. But I'm okay."

"Good," Gibbs replied. "Ready to get back to work?"

"So beyond ready."

They were almost to their cars in the parking garage when Gibbs's cell phone rang. He opened it, listened, shut it again, and looked around at his team. "We've got a dead Marine in Annandale," he announced. "Let's get moving."


End file.
